


Better Late Than Never

by foxxing (gayfantasticfour)



Series: Who's Gonna Love You Like Me? [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: (like 1 ok), Alternate Universe, Angst, Blowjobs, Drunken Makeouts, Fist Fights, M/M, basically rich boys at a rich school bein dicks, disastrous photoshoots, gr8, i think thats it, im so sorry this is garbage i'm a goddamn mess, rest in peace!!, rich boys!AU, there's so much angsting im' screamign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayfantasticfour/pseuds/foxxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Jinyoung and Jaebum are both pretentious rich boys who go to a prestigious college. All their lives they've hated each other, constantly competing for attention and approval from each other's parents and peers and just generally despising each other. But when Jaebum suddenly disappears in high school, Jinyoung doesn't have to worry about him anymore--until Jaebum shows up at Jinyoung's college five years later and everything goes straight to hell. Disastrous photoshoots, drunken camaraderie, and aggressive makeout sessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so first of all, i want to thank miguel for literally keeping me alive while i was writing this and for busting my balls all the time to finish bc TBH it wasn't looking good for a while, rip. i've been into this kpop biz for like only over a month so idk how anything works or where i am at any given time but jjp made me wanna die so here i am!!!!!! I also want to say that the only person who edited this was ME, and it's 4 AM, and I haven't written fic in a long ass time so please be gentle :( also i'm jjp trash as hell so this was inevitable. let me also say that i know next to nothing about korean colleges (or american college really because i didn't go to college, holler) so this was based mostly off how the curriculum/type of american colleges work for the most part??? i looked up normal classes and stuff in korean colleges but since they're not hugely important to the plot i mostly just threw some in there. the epilogue was mostly an afterthought so it's not necessarily important to read but it sets up for the sequel (lmao @ my life) ??? idk man it's 4:30 am now and I just finished this after writing it for a month!! rip!!! I'M SORRY IF IT'S AWFUL REST IN PEACE!!! 
> 
> ***ps just so you know, part 1 is in Jinyoung's POV and the rest is from JB's. bless ya soul

**J I N Y O U N G**

  
  
The last time Park Jinyoung ever saw Im Jaebum, he was being pulled out of their high school math class, a stricken and sick look on his face that Jinyoung enjoyed more than he’d ever admit to anyone. The classroom had exploded into whispers—it wasn’t exactly discreet, and Jaebum was popular the same way that Jinyoung was popular in that they were both attractive, good at sports (and which Jaebum was miles better at, though no one really said this unless they wanted to get cornered by Jackson), and filthy, filthy rich. So it was a surprise when Jaebum was pulled from class, looking like he was on the verge of tears, and never returned to school. His name was pulled from all the attendance books, team rosters, school events list. It was as though he’d never been there at all, and, eventually, Jaebum faded from the forefront of everyone’s minds. Jinyoung was a king, then, the richest kid at school, constantly winning hearts of girls and boys alike and winning soccer games. He was the unstoppable Park Jinyoung and though he had a few close friends, he was revered by the other kids at school mostly for his money. Which didn’t bother him any, because his biggest problem was gone. Im Jaebum never came back to school, Jinyoung never asked questions, and he moved on with his life. As far as Jinyoung was concerned, he was never going to see Im Jaebum again, and he was just fine with that.  
  
That is, of course, until Jinyoung has forgotten about Jaebum almost entirely, except in passing episodes of annoyance, and it’s been years since anyone even mentioned him. He’s in college now, at one of the most prestigious colleges in the entire country that took almost an entire year to get into and hundred of thousands of dollars that he barely noticed had gone. Jackson is with him, Bambam is with him, he’s captain of the soccer team, has some of the top grades in the school, and more money than he can save and waste simultaneously. Everyone loves him, and he’s convinced that life will always be like this, and nothing more.  
  


_________________________________

 

“Are you really going to skip class again, Jackson?” Jinyoung says, biting into an apple and sucking loudly to keep the juices from running all over his face.  
  
Jackson tries to swat it out of his hand, but Jinyoung leans back to dodge it. “Yeah, I didn’t do the assignment last night.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung adjusts his backpack strap on his shoulder and looks down at where Jackson has thrown himself on one of the couches in the library, looking more like he’s trying to model than he is trying to study. Considerably out of Jinyoung’s immediate reach, as well, which he thinks was purposeful. “Of course you didn’t,” he says, but it’s playful and not an accusation.  
  
Jackson just beams up at him, showing Jinyoung all this teeth in a smile that just earns him another eye roll. He folds his arms behind his head on the couch, the material of the expensive sweater Jinyoung got him for his birthday a few months ago leaving small traces of lint on the couch’s upholstery. Jinyoung takes another bite of his apple and swallows before asking “Aren’t you hot?” at the same time Jackson asks him “Aren’t you going to be late?”  
  
Turning, Jinyoung glances at the clock on the wall across from them and curses under his breath. He’s got about 6 minutes until class starts, and if he wants to get there on time he’s going to have to book it. He throws the apple onto Jackson’s stomach before turning to jog away, and Jackson squawks indignantly before removing the offending object and holding it away from him like it’s toxic. From behind him, Jinyoung hears Jackson’s loud voice holler “You’re going to ruin this sweater!” and without missing a beat Jinyoung looks over his shoulder to yell back “I’ll get you another one!”; he barely makes it out of the library before getting chastised by the sweet old librarian.  
  
Parting from Jackson took less time than he anticipated, so he manages to get to class in time doing a light jog rather than flat out running, which he’s no stranger to. Their school isn’t small, but it isn’t massive by any means, either, so mostly everyone there has seen Park Jinyoung frantically running across campus at some point or another. He arrives just in time to see a few other people just sitting down, and their professor shuffling through his papers.  
  
“Ah, good morning everyone,” their professors says, giving a small bow to the class before turning and writing on the whiteboard.  
  
Jinyoung mostly tunes out of the rest of the lecture, since he’s done more of the reading than he was supposed to. He absentmindedly flips through his book, cheek resting in his palm, looking at the words on the page but not really reading them. In the back of his mind he’s sure the professor has noticed and thinks he’s just being lazy, but Jinyoung’s had a perfect grade in this class since their first assignment, so he’s not particularly worried about his participation. He’s in the middle of daydreaming about being a professional soccer player and playing for South Korea when the professor’s steady, monotone drone is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and the professor’s noise of surprise.  
  
“Hello,” the professor says politely, “can I help you?”  
  
“Yeah, is this Bhang Sungsoo’s statistics class?”  
  
The voice comes to Jinyoung like he’s dreaming. He hasn’t heard it in years, and it sounds different, but there’s something so fundamentally familiar about it that he lifts his head up out of his hand and looks at the doorway, where a boy is standing with his hands carelessly shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Which are designer, currently in fashion and, as Jinyoung knows from experience, insanely expensive. Something like dread and recognition mingle together in his chest, and he finally looks at the boy’s face—handsome, undeniably so, soft jawline curving upward from a long, unblemished neck. His dark eyes are familiar, ones that Jinyoung thought he would never have to see again, and his entire body feels rigid with alarm. There’s a snapback situated backward on his head, reddish hair escaping from the small gap between the hat and the band.  
  
Jaebum looks different, but painfully the same; only he’s much older now, taller, with double ear piercings in his ears that pisses Jinyoung off to look at. The powder blue track jacket he’s wearing is zipped all the way up the neck, and the way he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, like he’s so relaxed and casual, like he’s been here for  _years_ , makes Jinyoung want to scream. He has to be dreaming, for sure, there’s no way that Im Jaebum, of all the goddamn people in the world, would show up here, at  _his_  university, a month into his second year, like he owns the place. There’s no way. Jackson had to have put something in his coffee that morning.  
  
But, no, because as Jinyoung watches with an increasing sense of disbelief, the professor breaks into a polite smile and bows quickly to Jaebum, who does the same. “Yes, it is. May I ask your name?”  
  
Jinyoung prays, positively screams to whatever entity is listening, for this to be someone else, for the name to come out of this person’s mouth to be anything but Im Jaebum.  
  
“Im Jaebum,” he says, and Jinyoung feels the disbelief break over him like a wave, “I just got here today.”  
  
Jinyoung’s luck has run out.

_________________________________

  
Jaebum doesn’t stay for the remainder of class, saying to the professor that he has some paperwork to finish with the administration, but he just wanted to find the classroom and let the professor know he would be joining them for their next class. Jaebum doesn’t even glance up at the students all staring at him, the girls in awe, and when he leaves the classroom it explodes into whispers. He tries not to listen, but he hears the two girls sitting behind him giggling and whispering about Oh, how cute was he, he’s so beautiful, I wonder who he is and Jinyoung has to grind his teeth together until it hurts to stay quiet.  
  
As soon as the professor dismisses them, Jinyoung is already up with his backpack on his shoulders and practically throwing himself down the steps and out the door. Some people call out to him in greeting as he races down the hallway, but he mostly ignores them as he shoves his way out of the political sciences building and toward the commons. He sees Jackson’s bleached white head from across the courtyard, and he starts shouting immediately.  
  
“JACKSON!  _JACKSON!”_  
  
Jackson whips around in alarm, finding Jinyoung with his eyes and looking impossibly more-so alarmed when he realizes he’s being approached at a dead run; the face he’s making would have been comedic in any other circumstances but Jinyoung doesn’t feel much like laughing right now. He reaches Jackson in seconds, everyone in the courtyard staring at him (including Jackson, who just looks baffled) but bends over with his hands on his knees, panting.  
  
“Are you going to explain this dramatic entrance, or are you going to make it worse by making me guess as to why you, the soccer captain, are out of breath from running?”  
  
Jinyoung lifts up his head to glare at him, but doesn’t take his hands from his knees. Between breaths, he gets out, “We…have…a problem.”  
  
Jackson just raises an eyebrow, waiting for Jinyoung to elaborate.  
  
Groaning, Jinyoung stands up straight and looks down at Jackson, straight in the eyes, and he can tell that Jackson is trying not to laugh at how dramatic he’s being. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself before opening them again and looking at Jackson. “Jaebum is here. At this school. Going to classes.”  
  
It’s dead silent for a second, Jackson’s face wiped clean of any emotion, and it makes Jinyoung anxious that he can’t read his expression. He’s about to say something when Jackson finally says, “Jaebum is here? That’s what you’re freaking out about?”  
  
Jinyoung just nods solemnly.  
  
It goes quiet between the two of them for a moment, Jackson’s face still carefully arranged into a blank look like he’s trying to process the information Jinyoung has just given him. Jinyoung understands, and waits (albeit impatiently) for Jackson to say something, since he himself is in shock and he doesn’t want Jackson to have a meltdown in the courtyard.  
  
His mouth moves like he’s going to say something, and then he’s bursting into laughter. Jinyoung’s jaw drops, his arms going limp at his sides from where they were crossed over his chest as Jackson leans back, absolutely howling with delight. He’s too shocked to say anything, so he just watches as Jackson drops onto his back on the bench and kicks his legs into the air, laughing like a five year old. People in the courtyard look over in curiosity, but as soon as they realize it’s Jackson it’s met with eye rolls and murmurs of “What else is new” before they go back to ignoring him. After a good minute and a half of laughter, Jackson lapses into giggles and wipes his eyes before looking up at Jinyoung, who’s angry now.  
  
“Are you done?” Jinyoung asks, exasperated.  
  
“Y-yes,” Jackson says, but he only makes it another few seconds looking at the sour look on Jinyoung’s face before he’s pealing laughter again.  
  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jinyoung barks, and turns to leave, heading to the parking lot to get in the car and go home.  
  
“Wait!” Jackson calls after him, but Jinyoung doesn’t stop and Jackson is forced to hurry after him, trying to stop laughing the whole time he’s catching up with him. When Jackson appears at his side, his face is a little red but he’s stopped laughing, and he asks, “Are you seriously this upset about it?”  
  
Jinyoung doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”  
  
He can practically hear Jackson roll his eyes. “I think you might be overreacting.”  
  
Jinyoung scoffs at him. “Oh, you want to talk about overreacting?” he shoots back, but it’s without heat and Jackson playfully bumps into his shoulder, which makes him feel a little bit better.  
  
“Look, so you guys have a class together, so what? You haven’t seen each other in years. Maybe he won’t even recognize you.”  
  
 _Yeah, right,_  Jinyoung thinks to himself, a little glumly,  _I recognized him immediately even though he looks older and more mature now._  “Maybe,” is what he says.  
  
“You’ll be fine, Jinyoungie,” Jackson says, before snatching the keys from his hands and sliding over to the driver’s side door of the car. Huffing out a laugh, Jinyoung walks over to the passenger side and gets in, dropping his backpack between his feet and glancing over at Jackson while putting on his seatbelt. “Everything is going to be just fine.”  
  


_________________________________

  
A few days later, the incident mostly forgotten and filed away, Jinyoung wakes up early to go to soccer tryouts. It’s a new season; most of their current players have graduated, left, or just quit the team, so they’re hosting tryouts to get some new bodies on the roster. Jinyoung and Bambam don’t technically need to go, since they’ve been on the team since their first year, but Bambam convinces him that since he’s the captain he should really go to judge the performances, but Jinyoung really knows Bambam wants to go just to heckle everyone. Which, when Jinyoung finally gets himself out the door in his pressed slacks and expensive sweater vest, he thinks he could use some amusement.  
  
He meets Bambam in the courtyard and they walk to the field together, but Bambam breaks off to go talk to their coach, so Junior is left to find somewhere shady to sit on the sidelines. There’s a pretty big crowd of supporters already: girlfriends, boyfriends, siblings, a parent here and there. The contenders are all loosely grouped together on one end of the field, mismatching in their various old soccer uniforms from whatever school team they were playing on before. From his place on the sidelines Jinyoung scans their faces, picking out a few people he knows from some classes, but mostly it’s a bunch of people he doesn’t know, and—Jaebum. His heart sinks in his chest as he sees Jaebum standing a little more off to himself than everyone else, wearing an immaculately designed soccer uniform, the powder blue the same color as his track jacket from before a study against the tan of his arms and legs. He’s still got a stupid snapback pulled down backward on his head, hands on his hips and squinting into the sun like he’s bored. Jinyoung scoffs, muttering “Asshole,” under his breath, and then quickly flushes and apologizes when a man he doesn’t know shoots him a look.  
  
Their coach appears with Bambam at his side a few minutes later, and Jinyoung ducks into the throng of people so that their coach doesn’t see him and call him out. He doesn’t want Jaebum to know that he’s watching, so he stays in the middle of the crowd to watch him as discreetly as possible. While their coach is talking to the players lined up at the end of the field, Jinyoung feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fishes it out, glancing down at it.  
  
It’s from Jackson. _Are you being a creep, Jinyoungie?_  
  
Jinyoung looks up in alarm, turning his head this way and that to see if Jackson randomly appeared without telling him. He doesn’t see him anywhere, so he bends his head back down to reply.  
  
 _How did you know?_  he sends, and then immediately follows it up with,  _I’m not being creepy. I’m just watching._  
  
He can practically hear the taunt in Jackson’s voice when the reply comes a few minutes later.  _Pretty sure “just watching” someone who doesn’t know you’re there is the definition of being creepy._  
  
 _Piss off._  
  
Their coach wraps up his speech, and Jinyoung looks at Jackson’s reply of  _;)_  before shoving his phone back down into his pocket, disgruntled.  
  
Coach put some of their best defense on the field in order to give the guys trying out a challenge, and the first couple of people perform pretty well, with only some minor mistakes here and there. The coach whistles in approval, but Jinyoung misses the next few people who try out because he’s too busy watching Jaebum with a steadily rising anger.  
  
He realizes that Jaebum has strategically placed himself at the back so he goes last, and, from experience, he knows that it was a ploy so that he could just show off and leave a lasting impression on everyone. The other players who are waiting to try out seem interested, paying attention and talking to each other, but Jaebum just looks bored, constantly yawning without covering his mouth and looking distractedly up at the sky, arms folded over his chest. He looks incredibly disinterested, so Jinyoung wonders heatedly why he’s even there in the first place, if he thinks soccer is so boring and not worth his time. He suppresses an eye roll.  
  
Finally, all of the other players are done, sitting tiredly on the sidelines wiping sweat and dirt off their faces with the bottom of their jerseys. Jaebum steps up, stopping the ball Bambam kicks toward him from the sideline with his foot. He looks up at the coach, an expression of impatience lazily plastered onto his features, and listens without moving as the coach explains what he wants Jaebum to do—move the ball all the way up the field without getting it taken from him, kicked away or otherwise, and score a goal, all in one shot. No mistakes, no redos. Jinyoung is a little shocked—no one else’s trials were that difficult, and the coach even praised most of the players who had tripped and popped right back up. But when Jaebum sets his jaw and just nods once in acknowledgment, squaring his shoulders, Jinyoung thinks it’s fitting, and there’s a part of him that can’t wait to watch Jaebum fuck this up. He’s been waiting for this for a long, long time.  
  
But Jaebum starts out flawlessly, practically exploding from his stillness at the end of the field, keeping he ball between his feet as he moves, almost impossibly fast, up the field. The players on the field struggle to keep up with him, and their multiple attempts to trip him up fail when Jaebum leaps upward over their ankles, using their momentum to kick the ball just far enough that Jaebum can stay in control of it while keeping it out of their reach. From where he’s standing in the crowd, Jinyoung can hear his teammates swearing as Jaebum bests them over and over, constantly dodging and leaping over sliding players without ever hitting the ground himself. Jinyoung is rooted to the spot by absolute incredulousness: he’s never seen anyone play soccer like this, and he sure as hell couldn’t ever play soccer like this; he’s good, the best player on their team, but even he isn’t quick enough to always evade slide tackles and expertly placed ankles. Even their coach looks astounded, and Jinyoung feels the resentment flood through him in a rush of heat. He watches as Jaebum kicks the ball into the goal, directly past the goalie who was, realistically, not even trying to act like he was going to stop Jaebum from scoring.  
  
The field erupts into cheers and shouts. Jaebum just turns and bows quickly, a grin breaking out over his face for the first time since Jinyoung has seen him again, and Jinyoung viciously wants to punch it off his face. Jaebum swipes the sweat off his face with his forearm, the only blemishes on his uniform from dark patches of sweat sticking the fabric to his stomach and collarbones.  
  
Jinyoung hates him. He’s a smug, bastard showoff, and Jinyoung hates him.  
  
The coach and Bambam are absolutely over the moon, and Jinyoung just stares at them in disbelief as they crow praise at Jaebum for a solid five minutes. Finally, Bambam finds Jinyoung’s eyes from across the field, and he nudges the coach and nods his head in Jinyoung’s direction. He’s caught, now, so he bites his lip against anything rude and just steps forward when his coach nods at him, grinning.  
  
“Ah, Jinyoung-ah, looks like you’ve got some competition!”  
  
He tries not to look at Jaebum to see how he reacts to Jinyoung’s name. He really does. But his eyes slide over to Jaebum anyway, whose mouth has dropped open in the first display of real emotion Jinyoung’s seen on his face in god knows how long. He never even looked this real when they knew each other years ago. Their eyes meet, and the moment feels like it stretches into eternity—several emotions chase themselves across Jaebum’s face, and Jinyoung just watches him, features schooled into a neutral expression. When Jaebum finally realizes that Jinyoung isn’t going to acknowledge that they know each other, he settles on a sneer and grins cruelly at him. His eyes stay on Jinyoung as the coach talks to him, and Jinyoung can feel his arms quivering with how hard he’s pressing them to his sides to keep from launching himself at Jaebum’s stupid, grinning face.  
  
With the sneer still firmly pulling up one side of his mouth, Jaebum quickly looks at the coach, rearranging his features into an award-winning smile, before locking eyes with Jinyoung again. “Oh, I think he can handle it.”

_________________________________

  
After that, Jaebum is immediately brought onto the soccer team without hesitation, as well as a few other players that did a little better than mediocre. They don’t name him team captain, and no one has the heart to tell Jinyoung that they’re going to replace him, but it’s obvious that the team holds Jaebum in high regard as a god of soccer, which pisses Jinyoung off to no end. A couple of weeks pass, and it’s just like middle school for them: constantly insulting each other’s performance, hurling insults at each other on the field, Jinyoung laughing when Jaebum takes a particularly bad tumble on the field when he was too busy taunting Jinyoung to watch where the ball was, and he ended up stepping on it the wrong way and hitting the ground flat on his back.  
  
In any case, the news spreads like wildfire that Im Jaebum, mysterious newcomer, and Park Jinyoung hate each other for some reason, and their rivalry is the topic of speculation for every avenue of gossip humanly possible. Jinyoung catches bits and pieces here and there, but he’s never really cared about gossip concerning himself, and he especially doesn’t concern himself with gossip that associates him with Jaebum. Off the field they barely acknowledge that the other exists: they pass by each other in the hallways with the cool indifference of two tough guys trying to be the most indifferent. Despite this, this hasn’t stopped them from also arguing in the hallways, Jackson having to grab Jinyoung around the waist on multiple occasions to keep him from attacking Jaebum or, even worse, his friend Yugyeom. Jaebum is at least more indifferent unless Jinyoung starts it, but Yugyeom is relentless and seems to know just how to get under Jinyoung’s skin. Jinyoung can’t even count how many times he’s passed by Yugyeom talking to someone in a loud, non-discreet voice, “coincidentally”, about Jinyoung. They've been friends for years, meeting in middle school, so Jinyoung isn't surprised Jaebum would end up in the same place Yugyeom did. He considers that it might even have been intentional.  
  
It’s at its worst on the field. They constantly butt heads, much to the frustration of their teammates, and practices often end early when all the other players just give up and go the locker rooms, leaving Jinyoung and Jaebum to continue their shouting match. As the days pass and the summer starts to wind down, the days gets hotter and hotter before the nights start to bring a little relief. One match in particular gets them both ejected from the game and sent immediately to the Dean’s office.  
  
“YAH! What the hell are you doing?!”  
  
The shrill sound of the whistle blowing echoes across the field, and Jinyoung almost drops to his knees in the grass of the pitch in pure, unbridled frustration. His hands come up to yank at his hair, a sound of annoyance starting low in his throat until he can’t hold it back anymore and he barks across the pitch, loud and clear: “You idiot! Why are you being like this?!”  
  
The person who is the recipient of the insult only glares at him from over his shoulder before turning back to face the ref, who is studiously ignoring Jaebum and Jinyoung both and discussing something with the coaches. All the players are halted on the field, their white uniforms streaked with brown and green from sliding in the grass and patches of dirt, sweat making streaks in the dusting of it on their faces. One of the players from SM College stands with his foot on the ball, twisted around to talk to one of his teammates under their breath. It’s blisteringly hot outside, unusually hot for a day in late summer on the brink of autumn, and it feels like this match it never going to end. Jinyoung feels like he’s going to drop dead any moment, and even though they’re winning the game, it’s more on the fact that they’ve been lucky than it is any good teamwork on their part. If Im Jaebum would stop trying to show off, they’d probably be done already, and everyone could go take a cold shower and eat.  
  
In any case, the referee just flashes Jaebum a yellow card, and then expertly deflects the string of insults Jaebum proceeds to hurl at him. “Are you joking? A yellow card? For what?! You jackass, I’d like to see you come out here and play!”  
  
Jinyoung just crouches down and folds his arms over his knees and puts his forehead against them, wishing he could just kick Jaebum in the throat to get him to shut up and get him off the field. Before Jaebum showed up and weaseled his way onto the team, their games only lasted the normal amount of time a soccer game is supposed to last, instead of lasting four times as long.  
  
“Hey! Jinyoung! Look alive!”  
  
His head snaps up to see Jaebum smiling at him cruelly, and Jinyoung stands up stiffly, blood boiling. He doesn’t like Im Jaebum on a good day, but mixed with his shitty attitude, the blistering heat, and Jaebum’s incessant desire to show off, today is not a good day to mess around. Instead of replying, he just rolls his eyes at him and straightens up, getting ready to get back into the game. The ref blows the whistle again, and suddenly everyone explodes into action. The player from SMC who had the ball while they were stopped makes an incredible pass to one of his teammates up the pitch, and it looks like they’re going to score until one of Jinyoung’s teammates slides in and kicks the ball toward him. He whoops in delight, a wordless praise to his teammates, and then Jinyoung is expertly volleying the ball between his feet down the field. Being a little smaller and lighter, he’s a lot faster than a lot of the players, so he’s got a clear shot on the goalie. Sucking in a breath, he prepares to kick the ball—  
  
 Out of nowhere, Jaebum slides in from behind him and kicks the ball from between Jinyoung’s feet and he trips, landing hard on his elbows. Jaebum whoops once, springing up into the air and over Jinyoung as he falls, and Jinyoung can taste blood in his mouth from where he’s bitten his lip on the way down. Groaning, he pushes himself up to his knees, wheezing, the breath knocked out of him. He can hear the sound of Jaebum scoring, but doesn’t look up from the ground and continues to fight to get his breath back on his hands and knees. His elbows are scraped and stinging, and he’s pretty sure he might have bruised a rib, the rapid inflation and deflation of his lungs sending jolts of pain down his side.  
  
“Jinyoung! Jinyoung-ah, are you alright?”  
  
Jinyoung looks up, breathing more normally, to see Jackson watching him from the sidelines. He drops his head back down and gives him a thumbs up before slowly unfolding back into a standing position. The ref looks at him once, the other plays suspended again, and Jinyoung just nods. He’s gonna play this game until he’s dead—there’s no way in hell Jaebum is going to get the best of him.  
  
The whistle blows and it continues for another 30 straight minutes: the game becomes a personal death match between Jinyoung and Jaebum, and the players who are smart enough to know better catch on fast and leave them plenty of room. They slam into each other over and over and over, like two stubborn animals fighting for dominance. Jinyoung gets an elbow into Jaebum’s stomach three times in a row, and each gasp of breath that he loses is like music to Jinyoung’s ears. Jaebum catches him in the ankles a few times, right beneath his shin guards. It goes on like this until finally, in what Jinyoung assumes is a desperate attempt to rattle him, Jaebum purposely trips Bambam, and Bambam goes down on his hands, immediately crying out as the force bends his wrist back the wrong way. A few of their players crowd over to him, helping him up, and the referee looks alarmed as Jinyoung stalks his way up to Jaebum, foot on the ball and waiting, and shoves hard at his chest. Jaebum grunts, the ball spinning out from underneath Jaebum’s foot and away from them as he stumbles backward and rights himself.  
  
“Ah, what the fuck, Jinyoung?”  
  
He doesn’t answer, the rage turning his vision red, and he shoves Jaebum backward again. He’s never hated someone this much, can’t even believe that someone as awful and cruel as Im Jaebum exists, and exists in the same place as Jinyoung. Their childhood was enough—years and years of torment from Jaebum, calling him Junior condescendingly but their parents thinking it was adorable; years of Jaebum thinking he was better, faster, smarter. Jinyoung isn’t generally a violent person, but he can’t seem to stop: Jaebum’s arm comes up to push Jinyoung away, but Jinyoung grabs his wrist and flings Jaebum’s arm savagely back into his chest. Jaebum seems to realize there’s a fight brewing, so he takes the initiative and throws the first punch.  
  
Jinyoung tries to dodge it, but it lands, striking him in the chin instead of his nose. His head snaps to the side, jaw smarting, and then he throws himself into Jaebum, knocking them both off balance. They hit the ground struggling, Jaebum on his back with Jinyoung sitting on his chest and trying to get his fists at Jaebum’s face. Jaebum’s arms are longer, but Jinyoung’s are thinner, and the sweat on his skin helps him slip out of Jaebum’s grip and land a solid punch in the eye. Jaebum shouts, other arm coming up and elbow connecting with Jinyoung’s collarbone. He yelps, but before either of them can land another blow, Jackson is gripping the back of Jinyoung’s shirt and yanking him up so hard the collar of his jersey catches his throat and he gags. Jackson drags him off Jaebum, letting Jinyoung drop unceremoniously to the ground, coughing and rubbing his throat. The referee and the coach are both shouting at them, and when Jinyoung looks up he sees matching expressions of rage on Jackson and the coach’s face.  
  
“You’re done for, Jinyoung,” Jackson says, and his voice is tight with barely controlled anger.  
  
He looks away, spitting blood onto the ground from where, at some point, Jaebum caught him in the mouth. Or maybe he had bitten his lip when the fell—he can’t remember, and the whole thing barely lasted three minutes. Jinyoung vaguely hears their coach scream that they’re both ejected from the rest of this game and the game next week, but it barely registers around the ringing in his ears. Then someone was helping up Jaebum, the heel of his hand pressed into his eye, and then they're both on their way to the Dean’s office.  
  
They walk in a strained, angry silence, with Jinyoung purposefully walking a little ahead so that he doesn’t have to look at Jaebum. He feels a little guilty for hitting Jaebum that hard in the eye, but more so out of guilt for being violent than it is direct guilt for hitting Jaebum. Classes are over for the day, but mostly everyone is either at the game still or in their dorms doing homework, so the campus is relatively empty as they both make their walk of shame to the Dean’s office.  
  
The secretary sits them down hurriedly outside his office, seating them across from each other instead of side by side, like she’s afraid another fight will break out. Jinyoung just crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, head against the wall, jaw throbbing. Jaebum glares at him from his right eye, the left covered up with an ice pack he’d been given, his hand pressing it into his face with a force Jinyoung is sure is theatrical. With the secretary back at her desk in the front and the Dean’s door still closed, the hallway leaves them in an uncomfortably full silence.  
  
They sit there and stare at each other, daring the other to break the silence first. Jaebum finally cracks and says, voice low, “you’re going to get ejected from all the games if you keep acting this way.”  
  
Jinyoung wants to shout at him, but he keeps his expression calm as he replies, “you deserved it.”  
  
“Did I?”  
  
He pretends to think for a second. “Yes.”  
  
Jaebum makes a disgusted noise, sitting up straight and opening his mouth to argue. “You’re such a—“  
  
Just then the Dean opens the door, his stern face calm and impassive as he spares a glance at Jaebum and cutting him off with a clipped, efficient tone. “Mr. Im and Mr. Park, please come in.”  
  
The Dean turns his back and Jinyoung smirks at Jaebum, earning him a nasty sneer, face red from the indirect chastisement. They sit down next to each other in front of the Dean, who looks at them impassively. He’s quiet for a moment, studying the two of them in a way that makes Jinyoung want to squirm, but the Dean has always liked him so he tries to stay still.  
  
Dean Kim turns on him first. “Jinyoung,” he says, and Jinyoung’s heart sinks. He can hear the disapproval in his voice. “You’ve been an outstanding student, and a very fair soccer player for the time that you’ve been at this school.”  
  
“Ah, Mr. Kim—“  
  
He holds up a hand, silencing Jinyoung immediately. “You’ve been nothing but a good student and an excellent soccer captain. You have never been in trouble and have all but wrapped the staff here around your finger with your charms, so I am afraid I do not understand your behavior today, and for that reason, will not make excuses for you.”  
  
Jinyoung wants to argue, but he knows Dean Kim is right. He bows his head in shame, not looking at him or over at Jaebum, who’s been dead silent since they came in.  
  
“Mr. Im, you are still a new student, and though I am familiar with your family name, that is not an excuse either. You have been at this school for little more than a month, and have stayed mostly under the radar, and the professors here have mostly given me good news about your calm and quiet demeanor in classes.”  
  
The compliments feel backhanded, but they both nod at the Dean in respect. He studies them for a moment longer, his dark eyes inscrutable under his graying eyebrows. The silence that precedes their verdict feels physical, and Jinyoung starts to feel crushed under the weight of it, panic making his chest tighten.  
  
“You are both suspended from classes and school activities for the next two weeks. I will let Coach Lee decide your fates for the rest of the soccer season, but I will not be surprised if you are ejected from the next handful of games. He has never taken players fighting well, especially those on the same team.”  
  
Jinyoung feels hot tears sting his eyes. Two weeks? He’s going to miss a lot of class, which means his grades are going to slip, unless he cajoles one of his classmates into giving him copies of their notes. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and is surprised to glance over at Jaebum and see him watching. Jaebum’s face is an unreadable stone mask, but his gaze doesn’t falter over Jinyoung’s until it finally makes Jinyoung uncomfortable and he looks away. Dean Kim just watches them carefully and silently, but Jinyoung knows when he’s been dismissed. He stands up slowly, bowing respectfully.  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Kim—“  
  
The Dean’s eyes harden, and Jinyoung feels his face flush with embarrassment. “Do not thank me, Park Jinyoung. I did you no favors today. Both of you got away with a minimal punishment, but do not think that if it happens a second time that it will not be worse. Change your attitudes,” he says, looking at Jaebum for this, who flushes in a mirrored image of Jinyoung’s embarrassment. “Jinyoung, you are dismissed, and you are to return immediately to your off campus housing. Mr. Im, you can wait here with me until I feel that Mr. Park has sufficiently vacated the premises.”  
  
Jinyoung hurriedly makes his escape after that, scurrying down the hallway and slipping past the secretary before she has time to say anything. When he emerges from the administration building, the sun’s gone down, and it’s a nice reprieve from the heat. Jinyoung glumly makes his way to the car, stopping by the locker room to grab his duffel bag first. The campus is deserted now, the game long over and everyone gone to their houses off campus or to their dorms, so the walk is quiet and full of inner monologue about how stupid could he be to almost maybe get himself kicked out of school? He shakes his head at himself in disappointment.  
  
By the time he reaches the car, it’s dark outside, so he doesn’t see that there’s a person laying on the hood until he’s almost standing on top of them. Startled, he drops his duffel bag, and then Jackson is lifting his head up off the car to look at him in the dark. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks at him, and Jinyoung shifts uncomfortably on his feet under the weight of Jackson’s gaze, visible only by the reflection of light in his dark eyes.  
  
“Sorry. Were you waiting long?” Jinyoung can feel the tension in the air between them and it’s the only thing he can think to say to break the silence.  
  
“Not really,” Jackson says, and his Korean sounds sloppy—hurried, like he’s trying too hard, which tells Jinyoung he’s upset. He sighs quietly, but Jackson doesn’t say anything else.  
  
He can’t think of anything to say, so he just stands there, watching Jackson watch him, the silence hanging between them. It’s not awkward, because things between them have never been awkward, but there’s sharp edge like a knife blade to it that makes Jinyoung feel distinctly uneasy. He’s about to say something else, shifting on his feet, but Jackson scoots forward on the car and beckons him closer. “Come here.”  
  
Without even a millisecond of hesitation, Jinyoung steps forward to stand in between Jackson’s spread legs, and Jackson’s tall enough that they’re just about the same height even with Jackson sitting down. Breathing quietly and evenly, Jackson reaches up to gently touch the pads of his fingers against Jinyoung’s jaw where, even in the darkness, there’s the starting of an ugly bruise. Jinyoung closes his eyes, relishing in the closeness of someone familiar and caring, letting Jackson slowly trail his fingers across the place where Jaebum socked him in the jaw earlier.  
  
In a voice as soft as an exhaled breath in a graveyard, Jackson lays his hand flat against Jinyoung’s cheek and whispers, “You idiot. You big, big idiot.”  
  
Jinyoung opens his eyes, less insulted by the words and more concerned about how gentle Jackson is being, and the strained note in his voice when he says it. Jackson’s eyes look huge in the moonlight, the lights on the street behind them barely bathing his face in a pale orange glow. He looks stricken and washed out, and suddenly Jinyoung is worried, grabbing at Jackson’s wrist but not moving his hand away. “Jackson-hyung. What’s the matter?”  
  
“You haven’t seen him in years, Jinyoungie. What if you had underestimated his strength?”  
  
Jinyoung tries for a joke, saying, “What, are you saying I’m not strong?” but Jackson doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even crack a smile, and Jinyoung’s own smile slips from his face.  
  
“Of course that’s not what I mean, Jinyoung. But what if he had been stronger than you?”  
  
And, finally, Jinyoung gets it. Jackson, his closest and most loyal friend, seriously worried about his well being.  
  
“Ah, Jackson-ah, I’m alright,” Jinyoung says gently, and this time he does move Jackson’s hand away from his face. He sets Jackson’s hand down in his lap and then wraps both of his arms around Jackson’s shoulders, pulling him closer until his head is tucked under Jinyoung’s chin. “Jackson, I’m alright. I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m fine, and he’s going to be fine, and it’s all going to be alright. Don’t worry about me, hyung.”  
  
Jackson breathes in deeply and lets it out, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. In that moment Jinyoung has never loved Jackson more, couldn’t imagine a life without Jackson in it, someone who constantly shines brighter than the sun even on his worst days, and Jinyoung doesn’t want to ever let go of him. “I’m going to be worried about you while you’re moping about not being able to go to class,” Jackson says quietly, but his voice is stronger, and Jinyoung shakes with silent laughter. He feels Jackson smile against his collarbone.  
  
“Yeah, you might have to worry about me then.”  
  
Jackson just nods once, hair tickling Jinyoung’s chin, but neither of them move. “I know. I always do.”  
  


_________________________________

  
Not being able to attend class for two weeks almost drives Jinyoung crazy (and Jackson by proxy, since they’re roommates and Jackson was the only other person besides Bambam who had to put up with Jinyoung’s constant bitching and complaining, like “God, Jaebum is the worst, I can’t even do my homework”, and Jackson has to constantly remind him that for all intents and purposes, Jinyoung started that fight, which causes Jinyoung to pout and be mad at him, which just makes Jackson roll his eyes and do something to placate Jinyoung, who is just a grumpy kitten in disguise as far as Jackson is concerned), but through lots of pleading and paying people off and secret trips to the library at night with Jackson, he manages to stay mostly on top of the work.  
  
Which, if that makes any of his professors suspicious, no one says anything. Jinyoung gets to go back to class after the two weeks are up, and as soon as he sets foot on campus as a free man again he’s taking off, waving goodbye to Jackson over his shoulder as he jogs away.  
  
His first class after returning is a small English course that most kids take for an easy A, since a lot of them speak pretty alright English without it. Jinyoung, having gone to America for six months after graduating high school, isn’t fluent by any means but speaks it well enough that he can mostly get by in this class by doing the written assignments and acing all the tests. However, when he sits down that day, their English professor tells them they’ll be working in randomly assigned pairs to translate some English literature into Korean, and vice versa. It doesn’t sound too difficult, so Jinyoung doesn’t even think twice about it until the professor pairs him with Choi Youngjae.  
  
Youngjae is someone he’s known for almost as long as he’s known Jaebum, and only because of Jaebum does he know Youngjae. Jaebum and Youngjae are thick as thieves, though judging by Youngjae’s personality you wouldn’t really know it. They’re almost always together outside of classes, but on his own, Youngjae is shy, quiet, and very polite. Which, Jinyoung considers as he moves his books over to sit by his new partner, is a very strange friendship indeed.  
  
“Hi, Youngjae,” Jinyoung says, and sets his books down on the desk next to him.  
  
He looks up from where he was working and smiles at Jinyoung, pleasant and earnest. They’re not friends, mostly because of Jaebum and Jinyoung’s strict desire to not associate with anyone who sees Jaebum in a positive light, but you’d be hard pressed to ever find Youngjae being cruel to someone, even on accident. “Hello, Jinyoung. How are you?”  
  
Jinyoung feels disarmed around Youngjae, enough so that he smiles back and tells him in English that he’s doing well. Youngjae nods along, watching Jinyoung’s mouth and trying to process all the English at once. “Good, good, I’m glad to hear that,” Youngjae replies, his accent thick but his English damn near perfect. He slips back into Korean, and they don’t speak in English again until they’re forced to. “I’m sorry you were out of class for so long.”  
  
Immediately he feels embarrassed. It was no secret what happened between he and Jaebum, but having one of Jaebum’s closest confidants apologize to him for what happened was a little startling. Awkwardly, he huffs a laugh and plays with a pencil. “Thank you, it was rough. I didn’t like being out of class but I stayed on top of most of the work.”  
  
Youngjae nods, looking at Jinyoung’s hand where he’s nervously twirling the pencil before looking back down at his books. Nonchalantly, he continues, “Jaebum is doing alright. The black eye is mostly gone, and he looks pretty normal now save for some slight discoloration. You really socked him a good one, Jinyoung!”  
  
Jinyoung just stares at Youngjae’s bent head. He knew Youngjae was nice, but he can’t even believe his ears at what is being said to him right now. Someone Jaebum protects and defends at all costs, and is fiercely loyal to—sweet Youngjae, who is just as defensive and as loyal to Jaebum, essentially complimenting Jinyoung on his swing?  
  
 _What?_  
  
“Ahh,” he starts, and chokes a little. “Ahh, yeah, I’m really sorry. He had just tripped Bambam, and now Bambam’s wrist is pretty messed up and I just lost my cool. We don’t have to talk about it.”  
  
Looking up, Youngjae studies him earnestly before looking back down. “I understand. I don’t hate you, or even dislike you. Like I said, I was sorry that you were not in class for so long.”  
  
He’s oddly touched. “Thanks.”  
  
They work in companionable silence for a bit, wordlessly sliding their papers back and forth for accuracy checks. They fix each other’s minor mistakes, working efficiently, and for the first time in two weeks, Jinyoung actually feels normal again.  
  
Toward the end of class, after their books have been put away and they’re just waiting for the professor to dismiss them (which it seems like he’s not willing to do until the very last minute they’re scheduled for class), Jinyoung nudges Youngjae gently with his shoulder. “Hey, Youngjae. Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Sure,” Youngjae says, like he already knows the question.  
  
“How’d you and Jaebum become friends?”  
  
Shyly, Youngjae drops his head a little and smiles, like his suspicions were confirmed. “It was years and years ago. In grade school. He had just moved into the neighborhood where I lived with my parents. I hadn’t lived there for very long either, only a few months or so, and didn’t really have any friends yet since the school year hadn’t started yet. I was out in front of my house playing on my bike when some of the older neighborhood kids came around, trying to get me to give it to them. I had gotten off of it at that point, not wanting to be rude and keep riding while they were talking. They were really getting onto me about it, and as a 7 year old I was relatively helpless against them, but I kept arguing, anyway. Jaebum and his parents had just returned home, and Jaebum headed down the street before even going inside his house, like he knew something was going on. The older kids didn’t see him, or didn’t care about him since he was barely 9 at that point, but suddenly Jaebum was behind them, just waiting for them to do something. After I wouldn’t give them my bike, one of them grabbed the handlebars while another one shoved me down onto the ground.  
  
"Jaebum reacted instantly, like he’d been waiting for it. He kicked the one who pushed me in the ankle so hard that kid ended up crying harder than me. After they saw the look on Jaebum’s face they dropped my bike and tore off, leaving me on the ground crying. I was a little scared of him at first, but when he kneeled down in front of me, he had the nicest look on his face. He asked me, ‘Are you okay? Those guys looked mean.’ and I just nodded because I was still crying. But he didn’t get mad at me, or annoyed, he just sat next to me and let me cry until I was done. And when I was done crying, he gave me his jacket so that I could dry my face and he asked me if I wanted to come play with him at his house, because he was new in the neighborhood and didn’t know anyone. So I did. And he’s been my friend ever since. He actually mentioned you—“  
  
The professor finally annouced they could leave, and Youngjae looked back at Jinyoung sheepishly. “Sorry, Jinyoung, I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. See you next class, okay?”  
  
All he could do was nod. He felt, suddenly and horribly, like his entire world had been flipped on his head. For most of his life, the only image he had of Jaebum was the cruel one: the one where Jaebum condescendingly called him Junior in front of their parents even though he hated it; the Jaebum who constantly boasted about being a better athlete because Jinyoung was too small and skinny to be any good at sports; the Jaebum who hadn’t ever said a nice thing to Jinyoung in his life and not because he was raised that way, but because he wanted to, and enjoyed the flush of hurt it would bring to Jinyoung’s face. All that Jinyoung has ever known about Jaebum is his glacial indifference or searing attitude, and for all these years he couldn’t even picture a Jaebum who gave a smaller boy his own jacket to wipe his tears off on. He couldn’t imagine a Jaebum that cared about anyone but himself, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt…cheated. To know that there was a Jaebum who existed that was everything Jinyoung knew he wasn’t made him feel like he wasn’t good enough to see it. And to what extent was the fault his, and to what extent was it Jaebum’s? There was never a day in this life where Jinyoung thought that he could ever have a feeling about Im Jaebum that wasn’t disdain, but now that there was a possibility, he felt turned around; alien, someone else entirely. His stomach took a soaring drop, bottoming out, and he suddenly felt sick of himself: how had he wasted so much time hating a person so utterly, so completely? And maybe someone who, in the right circumstances, didn’t deserve it. Jinyoung felt ill. He needed to see Jackson.  
  
He found Jackson a few minutes later, and they sat in the shade of the trees in the courtyard together, and Jackson listened with concern as Jinyoung told him what he learned. They don’t talk about it for long, as Jackson has a way of making Jinyoung feeling better quickly, and they decide to skip the rest of their classes and hang out with each other at home. No matter what they do, though, there’s a thought lingering the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, there’s always room to change. That, just maybe, he could turn around something seemingly impossible.  
  


_________________________________

  
After thinking about it all night, Jinyoung wakes up with an idea, which he pitches to Jackson while he’s getting dressed in his room. Leaning against the doorframe, already dressed for practice, Jinyoung eagerly awaits Jackson’s response.  
  
“I don’t know,” he says lamely, and Jinyoung goes limp in exasperation.  
  
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”  
  
Jackson pulls his jeans up all the way and looking at Jinyoung, absentmindedly grabbing for a shirt in the dresser. “People are hard to change.”  
  
“People change all the time.”  
  
This earns him a spectacularly theatric eyeroll, even by Jackson’s standards. “You know what I mean. I don’t think he’s going to take it well, and I don’t think that you should even attempt this, because you’re going to get burned, and you’re going to hate him even more.”  
  
Jinyoung knows Jackson is right, but somewhere deep inside he holds onto the hope like a stubborn dog. “I know. But I at least have to try, right?”  
  
With a shrug, Jackson picks up a pair of dirty boxers from the floor and launches them at Jinyoung’s face, which makes him shriek at the top of his lungs and stumble back into the hallway. Jackson just laughs at him, and Jinyoung grumbles a departure before slamming his way out the door to soccer practice.  
  
It’s the first time he’s seen Jaebum since their fight, and they make eye contact but they both quickly look away and, for the majority of practice, ignore each other entirely. They work a little better together, though wordlessly, but Jinyoung isn’t sure if it’s because they both feel bad or because they’re both trying to show Coach Lee that they’re not going to fly off the handle and try to murder each other again. The practice goes by quickly, the two of them mostly avoiding each other, and the other players look around quizzically at each other in the slow moments, but are offered no explanation.  
  
As they head back to the locker room to shower and change, Jinyoung starts to get anxious. Suddenly he thinks Jackson might actually be right, and that maybe this isn’t a good idea and he shouldn’t even attempt to reconcile with Jaebum, but once he’s resolved himself to doing something, he’s going to do it, no matter how much he sweats it. The locker room is normal, at least, filled with the humidity of hot showers running and the overlapping chatter of boys, punctuated here and there by the slamming of locker doors. Jinyoung is one of the first in the showers and he showers quickly, anxious to see how long Jaebum stays and hopefully get him alone. For whatever reason, Jaebum is usually one of the last boys in the locker room, and they’ve often just left him alone in there after they’ve all finished showering and changing, so Jinyoung is relieved when Jaebum comes out of the shower and the last few boys are putting their shoes on to leave.  
  
The door slams shut after the last few boys have left, leaving Jinyoung to fiddle nervously with his phone in the now-deafening silence. He waits a few minutes for Jaebum to get dressed, and then he’s standing up to come around the bank of lockers to where Jaebum’s is.  
  
He’s got his jeans pulled on but he’s not wearing a shirt, and he hasn’t noticed Jinyoung yet. Jinyoung’s almost in awe—this is definitely not the Jaebum he used to know. Younger Jaebum was skinny (but never as skinny as Jinyoung was, not by a long shot), with long limbs he didn’t quite know what to do with outside of sports. This Jaebum, though, was lean; lightly defined muscles snaked up both of his arms and were cut into the planes of his shoulders and stomach. Jinyoung’s never liked girls, but he’s also never liked Jaebum, so when he catches himself admiring Jaebum’s torso for way too long, his face reddens like he’d been caught. Which is, of course, when Jaebum finally notices him and looks over.  
  
“What?”  
  
 _Oh, no._ “Ah, nothing—“  
  
“You’re staring at me,” Jaebum interrupts, standoffish but not entirely unkindly. “Not nothing.”  
  
Jinyoung feels his face go impossibly redder, and he finds himself wishing that the floor would just open up and suck him down into the depths forever so he could escape this hell. He wishes he could take it back now, and thinks fleetingly of how Jackson would most likely be howling with laughter at how dorky Jinyoung looks and feels right now. He swallows, looking back to see Jaebum still watching him, shirt forgotten about in his left hand. Jinyoung can see the last faded yellow color of his black eye, and it gives him the courage to say what he wanted to say.  
  
“Look,” he starts, and his voice cracks, so he clears his throat and starts over. “Look, I’m sorry. You played really well today.”  
  
Jaebum’s eyes never move from his face, and his expression doesn’t change. He’s just standing there in the silence following Jinyoung’s words like a statue, and the scrutiny starts to make Jinyoung sweat under the intensity. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, exactly, but he knows if he moves even an inch, whatever progress they’re about to make is going to shatter.  
  
Finally, after what feels like hours, Jaebum finally says, “Are you sick?”  
  
It’s not the reaction he was expecting, and the offhand way Jaebum asks shocks him like he’d been dropped into ice water. “What?”  
  
“I asked if you were sick.”  
  
“No, I’m not sick,” Jinyoung says, catching on, his temper flaring when he realizes that Jaebum is being a dick to him. “I can’t say something nice to you?”  
  
Jaebum barks a short, sharp laugh that breaks off into the air like splinters. The sound lodges itself into Jinyoung’s eardrums, and the rejection of his peace offering hurts like he’d been slapped instead. “No.”  
  
Jinyoung feels anger crawl up his throat and lodge itself there. “Why not?”  
  
Without looking at him, Jaebum pulls his shirt on over his head and carelessly slips on his snapback. When he finally turns back to Jinyoung, his expression is as neutral as Jinyoung’s ever seen it, and the stark indifference behind it makes him want to scream. “Because,” Jaebum says, and the words are covered in ice so thick Jinyoung can almost feel it, “you’re not nice.”  
  
It stings. Way more than he wants it to, probably way more than Jaebum intended. But this was what he wanted, isn’t it? He wanted to try and reconcile with Jaebum, and instead he’s being spurned, turned out like he’s not worth Jaebum’s time. It settles down inside of him like a rock, weighing him down, unable to just leave. “Aren’t you sick of fighting, Jaebum?” he asks, and he hates the way it sounds a little desperate, and Jinyoung’s so worked up he doesn’t notice the quick flash of uncertainty across Jaebum’s face.  
  
“With you?” Jaebum says, but the rushing sound is so loud in Jinyoung’s ears that he misses the way that he says it with way less heat than before. “No.”  
  
And with that, Jinyoung just picks up his bag and slams out of the locker room. He feels stupid for being on the verge of tears, but he’s never had someone so coldly deflect his attempts at niceties before. Jinyoung thinks of the story Youngjae told him, and he struggles in his mind to create a picture of the Jaebum that Youngjae knows, that he cares about. It’s hard to imagine that Im Jaebum could be anything but cruel, and Jinyoung hates himself for trying. He angrily wipes the tears from his eyes before they can fall, and schools his features into the cheery face everyone knows and adores.  
  
That night when he gets home from his last class, he barely says hi to Jackson before he’s dropping his backpack by the door and going to his room, locking the door behind him. It’ll be a long, cold day in hell before he ever tries it again.


	2. Chapter 2

**J A E B U M**

 

After the heavy locker room door slams shut behind Jinyoung, Jaebum just stands in the silence, shock and anger mingling in his chest. The shock only lasts for a moment before the anger wins, hot blood flushing his face red with the barely controlled urge to go after Jinyoung and yell at him. They’ve hated each other for years, Jaebum thinks, confusion slowly creeping up to join the anger. Why would it be so shocking to Jinyoung that Jaebum would want no part in whatever weird thing he was trying to trick him into? Jaebum knows him better than that, as much as he hates to admit—Jinyoung has always been good at tricking people into things, which Jaebum has always attributed to his sweet, angelic face, stupid dimples, and his insane mastering of the puppy-dog eyes. Everyone else might think Jinyoung is sweet, but Jaebum knows better, and whatever ulterior motive he had for trying to make peace wasn’t going to get past him. He’s no stranger to the con, so he knows one when he sees one.

Inexplicably annoyed, Jaebum stuffs the rest of his things into his duffel bag from his locker and pulls his phone out of his pocket. As he leaves, he scrolls through his contact list until he finds who he’s looking for and sends them a text:

**To: Yugyeom**

**Where are you?**

He doesn’t reply right away, which is typical of him. The behavior, while expected, still grates on Jaebum’s already thin nerves. He starts walking back towards his dorm in evening light, everything painted in shades of pink and orange. The breeze that whispers across his exposed skin is cooler than the air around him, bringing promises of lower temperatures on its heels. If he was in a better mood he would be enjoying it, but the whole confrontation with Jinyoung bothers him the entire way back to his room, the anger coming and going in varying degrees of intensity. 

**From: Yugyeom**

**i’m studying in the library. why?**

The text comes as he’s entering his room, so he throws his stuff down on the floor next to his desk before dropping himself heavily onto his bed. Yugyeom, as obnoxious and flamboyant as he is, hates to be interrupted when he studies, so Jaebum considers for a moment before deciding he wants Yugyeom to come to his room.

**To: Yugyeom**

**Come to my dorm.**

 The reply comes immediately, which means Yugyeom was interested in whatever reason Jaebum had to seek him out. He would have dropped anything to get some good gossiping in, anyway, so Jaebum feels less guilty about bothering him.

**From: Yugyeom**

**Is this about Jinyoung? what happened this time**  

Jaebum makes a face at his phone but doesn’t answer, dropping it onto the bed where he can’t reach it. He knows the lack of response would get Yugyeom over here no matter what the subject was, but Jaebum has come to realize that Yugyeom can’t resist a slam session against Jinyoung.

Initially, when Jaebum first arrived, he was startled by this. Yugyeom and Jinyoung are two vastly different people and, while the school isn’t huge, it’s not small. The fact that Jinyoung and Yugyeom already seemed to have some small beef before he even arrived to irritate it even further by being Yugyeom’s friend was unexpected, but not entirely surprising. They hadn't liked each other in middle or high school, so it makes sense that college would only exacerbate it. Yugyeom is also Jinyoung’s polar opposite in every way: straight, brash, loud, flamboyant and ridiculous; he cared enough and worked hard enough to maintain good grades but wasn’t skipping parties to do homework. Jaebum is pretty sure that Jinyoung’s never been to a party in his whole life: even as children, Jinyoung only ever went to birthday parties when they were hosted in the classroom at school, or when his mother made him. Yugyeom, meanwhile, was partying even in upper middle school, when Jaebum first met him. They’re the same age but somehow, even at 14, Yugyeom was going to high school parties and making out with girls 5 years older than him.

He had been mostly sad to leave Youngjae when he moved in high school, but parts of him were overwhelmingly sad about moving away from Yugyeom, too. When Yugyeom called him out of the blue a couple of months after he had moved and they talked about plans for college, the two of them made a pact to end up together, no matter what. It was especially important that he ended up with Youngjae, and, by some miracle, Youngjae and Yugyeom made it into JYP at the same time. After that, it was just a matter of Jaebum telling his parents he was going to move away to go to JYP and it was done.

And now, after 5 years, he feels as though he’s been transported backward instead of going forward.

Seeing Jinyoung on the soccer field that day had been like being dropped into a tank of ice water: he couldn’t believe his eyes, seeing Park Jinyoung all dressed up like an important diplomat in pressed slacks the color of the sky right before a thunderstorm with a matching sweater vest, all just to watch some soccer tryouts. And then their eyes had met and Jinyoung looked at him like he always had: right through him, like he was less important or didn’t matter as much as Jinyoung did. It makes him sick to think about.

Of its own accord, his face twists into a sneer that stays firmly in place even as Yugyeom barges in the door, the breeze from the hallway fluttering Jaebum’s papers across his desk and onto the floor of his room.

“Jeez,” Yugyeom says, closing the door behind him and plopping down backward in the chair, leaning his chest against the back of it. “Were you in the middle of having a seizure when I came in?”

“Ha, ha,” Jaebum says sarcastically, throwing a wadded up jacket at Yugyeom, who dodges it with all the skill of a little brother. “You scattered my homework everywhere.”

With characteristic exaggeration, Yugyeom looks at the papers on the floor and the closed books on the desk, the lamp flipped off, and puts his hand over his heart in mock embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Jaebum-ah, I didn’t realize you would be working on homework so diligently when I arrived uninvited.”

“Funny.” Jaebum tries to sound affronted, but the look on Yugyeom’s face just makes him laugh.

“Anyway, tell me what happened with Jinyoung. What’d he fuck up this time?”

Sighing dramatically, Jaebum sits up and leans his back against the headboard, legs stretched out on the bed. “He tried to apologize to me in the locker room.”

Its silent for long enough that Jaebum eventually looks over at Yugyeom, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Jaebum’s brow furrows, but before he can get a word out, Yugyeom’s loud, high pitched laughter is filling the room. “That’s what you’re mad about?!” he squeals, folding his arms and putting his head down on them. “That’s what you’re mad about, that he tried to say sorry to you?!”

“Of course it is!” His temper starts to rise, making his face hot. Yugyeom settles down a little, but he’s still grinning madly, which only acts like kindling to Jaebum’s anger. “I know there was an ulterior motive, Yugyeom. I’ve known him for a long time, and I know he didn’t mean it.”

Yugyeom just rolls his eyes. “Obviously he doesn’t mean it. Has Jinyoung ever been sincere for even a minute at any point in time that you’ve known him?”

Jaebum has to think about it a moment longer than he wishes to before saying, “No.”

“Exactly. Why are you worried about it?”

This is what was bothering him, and he’s glad that Yugyeom asks, because he couldn’t quite establish an answer to that besides the fact that it was weird, really random, and insincere. “Because he’s up to something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

Yugyeom scoffs at him. “You’re upset because you think he’s up to something, but can’t think of what it might be? How does that work?”

Frustration starts to unfurl in his chest, making him even more irritable. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other in five years, and we hate each other more than we ever have, but he waited until we were alone to try and apologize to me. Maybe he knows I’ve gotten all my money back, and he’s trying to…” he trails off, unable to think of a reason.

A short, sharp bark of a laugh escapes Yugyeom. “Park Jinyoung has more money than he knows what to do with, Jaebum, and you know it. You know him better than I do, and even  _I_  know it. That’s not the reason at all.”

“He was checking me out,” he says suddenly. It’s not even close to being a valid reason, not even close to why he’s even suspicious of Jinyoung’s apology, but he noticed and he needed to say something about it.

Yugyeom just rolls his eyes again, more theatrical this time. “He’s always been gay and you got hot. Big surprise that he’d be checking you out, even if he hates you. I’m straight as a board and I check you out sometimes.”

The knowledge that Park Jinyoung could possibly think he’s hot makes his stomach turn, so he files it away to examine later. Or, if he’s lucky, never again. He makes a disgusted face as Yugyeom raises an eyebrow and wags his tongue at him, panting like a dog. “Don’t be gross.”

This is met with a snort. “Like you’ve never said or done anything gross about guys  _you_ think are attractive. Why do you care, anyway, if he was checking you out?”

Jaebum suddenly regrets bringing it up. “I  _don’t_ care,” he says, and he winces internally at how defensive it sounds, and he winces for real when he sees that Yugyeom noticed. “I don’t! It’s just weird.”

“Why are you being so defensive?”

_“I don’t care,”_ Jaebum says through his teeth, and he can feel how warm his face is and wonders if Yugyeom can tell how upset he is based on the shade of red he’s turning.

Jaebum  _really_ regrets bringing it up when Yugyeom asks his next question, eyes serious and unflinching. Intuitive Yugyeom, always cornering Jaebum and hitting him right where it hurts. “Then why’d you bring it up?”

He opens his mouth to defend himself immediately, but shuts it when he can’t think of anything good to say. Why  _did_ he bring it up? It was bothering him, because he did notice, even though he doesn’t think Jinyoung noticed him noticing. Which is fine, because keeping that moment under wraps and never addressing it is just fine by Jaebum. He wonders, then, if Jinyoung  _did_ notice that Jaebum noticed—was Jinyoung just pretending to check him out because he knew he would notice? Fresh anger bubbles up in his chest. Would even Park Jinyoung be so cruel to prey on him that way?

“Look,” Yugyeom says finally, voice flippant again instead of the serious, probing one he uses when he knows Jaebum is hiding something. “Even if you didn’t care, and if you and Jinyoung didn’t hate each other, I’d tell you to stay away from him anyway, because he’s a prick.”

“I know,” Jaebum says, frustrated. His mind keeps running circles around him, rapid-firing a million and one reasons that Jinyoung would be checking him out besides the fact that he’s just an attractive guy.

“I can’t believe it took you  _this_  long to fight him,” he continues, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “Even in  _middle_   _school_ he was a prick. He was always throwing his money around like it made him more important than everyone else. That’s the only reason kids even liked him! Not because he was a good person, but because he had money. But he was convinced everyone loved him just for being Jinyoung.”

“I  _know,”_ he says again, more forcefully. “You keep telling me things I already know instead of offering anything useful.” Jaebum’s brain feels like it’s running at a thousand miles per hour, too many thoughts racing around and crashing into each other like destruction derby cars. Yugyeom’s tirade goes on, explaining in explicit detail the way that he had caught Jinyoung making out with some boy from school behind the science classrooms during study hall in high school and how Jinyoung offered to pay him off like it was nothing, like $100 was pocket change, “because it was,” he was saying, continuing on. “Had this kid’s shirt off and everything, the two of them practically humping each other’s legs—as soon as I turned that corner Jinyoung was offering to pay me to not tell anyone because he didn’t want to get suspended and miss class, like it wouldn’t  _offend_  me that he could just throw $100 in my direction to keep me quiet about it—“

“Jesus, Yugyeom,  _enough!”_

Jaebum’s sudden outburst startles the both of them, and Yugyeom’s mouth snaps shut with a click. Embarrassed and angry, Jaebum puts his face in his hands and doesn’t say anything, trying to calm down before he turns on Yugyeom and punches him in the face. The silence is tense and presses down on both of them like a weight, and Yugyeom’s voice is quiet when he speaks, like he’s afraid that it’ll splinter. “I’m sorry, Jaebum, I didn’t think you cared that much about it—“

_“I don’t care about that!”_ he shouts, turning violently toward Yugyeom, fists balled. “I don’t care what he thinks of me! I care about what he  _wants from me!”_

Yugyeom visibly pales from the force of Jaebum’s anger, but he’s too worked up to care. His chest heaves, breath coming in quiet, rapid pants like he’d been running. He’s never hit Yugyeom and he doesn’t want to, but he feels like if Yugyeom says even  _one more thing_ about Jinyoung, he won’t be able to stop himself.

He goes to say something, but Jaebum just cuts him off, closing his eyes and speaking through clenched teeth. “Just go, Yugyeom. Just get out.”

Jaebum doesn’t open his eyes until he hears Yugyeom stand up abruptly, the chair scraping angrily against the hardwood floor. When he looks up at him, bright pink spots have appeared on Yugyeom’s cheeks, his jaw clenched so hard he looks like he’s going to break it. Jaebum knows, outside of himself, that he hurt Yugyeom’s feelings but the rage is burning, burning, burning. He feels like he’s made of fire, and when Yugyeom slams the door behind him without a word, the bang buries itself in his mind like an echo of the heavy metal door of the locker room.

_________________________________

 

Jaebum skips all his classes the next day, locking himself in his room and staunchly refusing to answer anyone’s calls all day. He doesn’t hear from Yugyeom, which doesn’t surprise him: Jaebum had gone to bed that night replaying their conversation, the guilt eventually bleeding into the anger, until he was less angry at Jinyoung and more so at himself for treating Yugyeom so terribly.

He’s never been good at controlling his anger, and it got even worse when his parents lost their money and they had to move. His rage became like a living thing, belligerent and wild, always hanging off his back and ready to unleash itself at any given moment, even over the small things. The therapist he saw for 2 weeks before he angrily shattered a glass vase against the wall told him that his anger was most likely coming from a place of guilt for not contributing to his parents’ income at all, and not being able to save them when they needed the money. Jaebum never went back to her after that. He continued to let his anger fester, until finally he found a job that paid well and he was able to give his paychecks to his mother every week, his anger tamped down beneath his sense of usefulness.

Jaebum doesn’t like to dwell on it, and he tries to shake the memories off even as he continues to think of his mom and dad all day. He doesn’t even leave to eat, snacking on some of the things his parents had sent him when he’d first arrived. It’s not a filling meal by any means, but it saves him from interacting with people, so he’ll take it.

He goes almost all day without talking to anyone, but around dinner time his phone rings from somewhere in his bed. Dread spreads through his abdomen as he searches for the phone, not wanting to talk to anybody but curious as to who would be calling him instead of just sending him a text. After shaking the blanket out onto the floor, he barely swipes his phone off the ground and answers it before it stops ringing.

“Hi, mom,” he says, and he feels better when he hears her cover the mouth piece to shout to his dad that he picked up.

“Hello, darling,” she says, happiness evident in her voice, and Jaebum practically melts back into the bed with relief. She asks him how he’s doing, and he tells her with reluctance about the fight he got into with someone on the soccer team (but doesn’t mention with who, because he couldn’t bear to break her heart and tell her that he and Jinyoung didn’t get along, and never have) and almost got suspended. She was worried, and asked if he was okay, but didn’t sound disappointed or upset and that’s all he could ask for. They talk about nothing for a while—she asks about classes, which he fibs about not having any that day. He asks how everyone is doing at home, and if they’ll all be going with them on vacation, and to tell them that he's sorry he won't be going. Jaebum feels happy, for the first time since he got here—he doesn’t even think of Jinyoung, or fighting with Yugyeom, or any of the tests he has to study for. He just listens to his mother’s voice with his eyes closed, smiling every so often when he hears the deep mumble of his dad’s voice in the background.

“Listen, Jaebummie,” she says after a while, and he stifles a yawn as she speaks. “The reason I called, besides hearing your wonderful voice, is that I wanted to tell you that your father and I got you a photoshoot with that magazine you really like. The high fashion one.”

Jaebum, tired only moments ago, sits straight up in bed. “You did?”

She sounds delighted at the disbelief in his voice. “Yes! Your father and I were having a nice dinner with the partner of their company at the hotel she was staying at. She came over to compliment my coat, initially, but I told her my son was a huge fan of her work and she was absolutely delighted, Jaebum. She said that if you wanted to do a shoot with her, she’ll be in London until next week, so I asked her if this weekend was okay. Can you make it?”

He doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes! Yes, yes, absolutely. Have you booked the tickets yet?”

“No,” she replies, shuffling through something and crinkling some paper on the other end before continuing. “She wants you to bring Jinyoung!”

His heart sinks immediately, settling in the bottom of his stomach like a weight. He should have known this was coming—his mother has always loved Jinyoung almost like her own son, and she’s been blind to their blatant disdain for each other since the day they met in the park when they were in elementary school, shortly after Jaebum moved into the neighborhood. He should have known that a session with one of the greatest fashion photographers in Europe wasn’t going to come without a price.

“Of course I’ll ask him, but you know how he is,” he says, and he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained as he thinks it does. “He’s very worried about missing school.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, and he can picture her flapping a hand dismissively. “But I think he’d love to go. Lilian also said to bring other friends, too. You can just put their tickets on your credit card.”

“Alright. I’ll probably just bring Yugyeom and Youngjae.”

He hears the smile in her voice when he mentions them. “Of course. Give them my love, and Jinyoung as well. Tell him I’ll call him soon. I love you!”

“I love you too, mom. Talk to you later.”

They hang up, and Jaebum stares at his phone for a very, very long time. He should have known she was going to ask. He could always lie and say that he did ask, but Jinyoung was too busy, but he knows how disappointed she would be if she ever found out, and he can’t bear to do that to her. Reluctantly, Jaebum gets up and crosses the room to his desk, where he flips open his laptop and searches the student directory for Jinyoung’s email. There’s no phone number listed, and Jaebum sure as hell isn’t going to ask anyone for it. He sighs heavily before opening a new email and prays silently to himself that Jinyoung never checks it, and when he says he asked but Jinyoung never answered him, it won’t be a lie.

 

**TO** : [p.jinyoung7@jyp.edu](mailto:p.jinyoung7@jyp.edu)  
**FROM** : [i.jaebum17@jyp.edu](mailto:i.jaebum17@jyp.edu)  
**SUBJECT** : Session with Lilian Baxter

_Jinyoung,_

_My mother just called. She's gotten a session with Lilian Baxter in London for this weekend, and she wanted me to invite you. She said we could bring friends, so please feel free to invite Jackson and Bambam. The session is on Sunday, so we should be there by Saturday night. You should leave on Friday afternoon after classes to get there with plenty of time. Lilian told my mother she would give us the address when we arrived in London._

_-JB_

He feels vaguely sick as he sends it, hoping like hell that Jinyoung isn’t one of those people who has their school emails attached to their phone and gets the notifications right away. He sits at his computer for 10 minutes, but there is no reply and he’s distinctly relieved. Getting up, he goes and lays on his bed with a book he’s supposed to be reading, but he finds himself reading the same lines over and over, struggling to stay focused on it. He feels anxious, and he finds himself digging for his phone in the blankets again to text Yugyeom.

**To: Yugyeom**

**Do you forgive me?**

The reply isn’t immediate, but it comes within five minutes, and Jaebum feels a little bit better.

**From: Yugyeom**

**Of course i do, idiot**

**From: Yugyeom**

**Even though I’m trying to hit on a girl right now**

Jaebum just laughs quietly, and decides to break the news to him.

**To: Yugyeom**

**Good to know. We have a session with Lilian Baxter this week. Text me your info so I can buy your plane ticket tomorrow.**

This time, the reply comes right away:

**From: Yugyeom**

**:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D**

He laughs, and scrolls through his social media for a while before getting bored and putting his phone down, attempting to read for class again. It goes a little better this time around, having talked to Yugyeom centering him a little, and hours pass before he realizes it. He puts the book down and realizes it’s been four hours, and now it’s almost midnight. Startled, he closes the book and puts it on his bedside table, getting up to change into pajamas. Just as he’s about to get into bed, a small pinging noise from his computer alerts him to a notification. He sits down apprehensively, stomach sinking when he sees that he has an email from Jinyoung.

**TO** : i.jaebum17@jyp.edu  
**FROM** : p.jinyoung7@jyp.edu  
**SUBJECT** : RE: Session with Lilian Baxter

_Jaebum,_

_Sounds good. Jackson will be very excited._

_Tell your mother I miss her._

_-Jinyoung_

It’s short and to the point, and it makes him feel weird in a way he can’t describe. It’s hard for him to imagine Jinyoung even reading an email that Jaebum had sent him, much less replying to it and asking him to tell his mother that he misses her. Which he’ll do, begrudgingly, because Jaebum knows it’ll make her happy. With a sigh he’s not sure about, he closes his laptop and crawls into bed, staring at the ceiling for 45 minutes before finally drifting off.

_________________________________

 

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, Jaebum is regretting ever telling Yugyeom they were going.

“Are you ready?” Yugyeom asks for the millionth time that day, and Jaebum’s nerves are already stretched so thin from the stress of traveling and the stress of having to share close quarters with Jinyoung for more than the duration of a lecture that he feels like he’s about to snap.

He feels irritation creep up into his voice, but he remembers that it’s not really Yugyeom he’s annoyed at, so he tries to keep his voice level. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Yugyeom softens a little and leans across the bed where they’re both waiting for Youngjae to softly punch Jaebum in the arm. “I’m sorry. I’m being annoying, aren’t I?”

With a small smile, Jaebum leans into him and shoves him a little. “No, it’s not you. You know I don’t like traveling much, and I love my mother but I’m not happy about Jinyoung being there—“ he flinches, closing his eyes. He vowed not to say anything about Jinyoung being present at the shoot until they were actually there, to avoid the situation that is currently arising because he’s a big, dumb, idiot and can’t keep his mouth shut.

Yugyeom, startled, leaps off the bed. “Jinyoung is going to be there?! Why, Jaebum?”

He sighs heavily, dropping onto his back on the bed to avoid Yugyeom’s accusatory glare. “My mom asked me too. I couldn’t say no to her.”

“Technically, you could have. You’re physically able.”

Jaebum lifts his head up to shoot Yugyeom a grimace before dropping his head back down heavily.

“Why does your mom even like him so much? He’s shoved so far up his own ass he can hear his heart beating.”

He snorts, unable to help it. “I don’t know. She’s always loved Jinyoung a lot, and he’s loved her just as much.” He breaks off halfway with a sigh. “Who knows. But I wasn’t going to tell her no, and I wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t want to come and not  tell him about it.”

“I get it, I just think it’s going to be a huge mess,” Yugyeom says, turning around when Youngjae knocks softly on the door and steps in, luggage rolling behind him.

“What’s going to be a mess?” he asks, taking his hat off and dropping it on top of his suitcase before setting it by the door.

Yugyeom doesn’t give Jaebum a chance to answer for himself. “Jaebum’s mom made him invite Jinyoung, so he’ll be there.”

A small smile creeps onto Youngjae’s face as he receives the news, and Jaebum is startled to see it; he looks at Youngjae in surprise, who doesn’t let the smile drop even as he sees Jaebum notice. He finally lets the smile fall off his face as he looks at Yugyeom in mock horror. “Oh no. How terrible.”

Yugyeom just rolls his eyes and then checks his watch, turning his wrist to show Jaebum the face. “We should probably get a move on, yeah?”

Feeling weighed down by worry, Jaebum heaves himself into a sitting position and drags on his jacket, wishing he could just be there already and in a quiet hotel room by himself. “Alright. Let’s get a move on, then.”

 

It only takes them about an hour to get to the airport, the three of them crammed into the back of a cab because Jaebum was feeling too neurotic and rushed to hire a car. The air outside, while cooling down, is still too hot for a jacket, so Jaebum finds himself sweating and trying to tear his off while they struggle to get their luggage out of the microscopic trunk of the cab. Yugyeom just laughs at him, looking the picture of comfort still wearing his hoodie, and Jaebum shoots him a glare. “Just get the luggage, Yugyeom, we don’t have a whole lot of time.”

Exasperated, Yugyeom pulls the last of their suitcases from the trunk and slams it shut. “Jaebum, we got here an hour before we even board. Relax.”

It irritates him but he doesn’t reply, not wanting to start a fight. He looks away at Youngjae, who is handing the cab driver a small stack of bills and smiling blindingly, offering a small, polite bow before waving goodbye and coming over to them. The cab pulls away and the three of them pick up their bags, heading inside to go through security.

It’s a breeze, with Jaebum’s tickets getting them into the express lane and within twenty minutes they’re already seated at their gate. They’re trying to decide how to kill the next 40 minutes when suddenly Yugyeom digs a bony elbow into Jaebum’s ribs, pointing. “There’s Jinyoung with his other two idiots.”

The insult skates off Jaebum’s nerves, and he catches the sharp look Youngjae gives Yugyeom as he reaches across the small aisle with his foot to kick their friend in the knee. He looks in the direction Yugyeom’s pointing and, sure enough, Jinyoung is heading in their direction with Jackson and Bambam in tow. Bambam is on the phone, walking a little away from the other two, so Jackson and Jinyoung are shoulder and shoulder and laughing about something. He can’t hear them from his far away, but something about it makes his stomach hurt, and he looks away in annoyance. He catches Youngjae’s eye as he looks toward the massive, wall size window onto the airstrip, but plaintively ignores it.

“Do you think they’re going to be on our flight?” Yugyeom asks, looking distinctly annoyed. “The plane’s really small, which means first class is even smaller.”

Ever the voice of reason, Youngjae answers honestly. “Most likely, Yuggie. You should really keep your voice down. You don’t need to be so rude.”

Ever the most immature, Yugyeom sticks his tongue out at Youngjae but doesn’t say anything else.

A few minutes later, Jackson’s high pitched laughter is echoing off the shiny tile floors and Jaebum feels his anger spike suddenly, like someone drove a hot needle directly into the center of his chest. From this close he can hear Jinyoung’s voice tapering off into a whine over the sound of their suitcase wheels behind them.

“Ah, Jackson, don’t laugh at me!” He complains, and even just the sound of it drives into his ears like spikes.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Jackson laughs, stopping their advance and letting go of their luggage. The three of them haven’t noticed Jaebum yet, and Bambam’s gone off to lean against the far wall, still on the phone. Jaebum tries to watch them nonchalantly, only half listening to the childish argument going on between Yugyeom and Youngjae (which, as Jaebum suspects, Yugyeom is losing).

“No you didn’t!” Jinyoung whines indignantly, reaching up to tip his obnoxiously large and ridiculously floppy black sunhat further back on his head. “Isolated incident, Jackson-ah.”

This makes Jackson laugh again, and then he’s removing his thin jacket and handing it over to Jinyoung, smiling. “Yes I did. I knew you’d forget your jacket, and I knew you’d whine about being cold in the airport until I gave you mine.”

Jaebum feels the anger spread to his face, no doubt turning it a distinct shade of red. Jinyoung blushes madly, a similar shade to Jaebum’s, and pulls the jacket on over his black t-shirt. “Thank you.”

Jackson leans forward to whisper something in Jinyoung’s ear, and whatever he says makes Jinyoung go impossibly redder and earns Jackson a hit on the arm, his squawk echoing down the corridor.

Jaebum doesn’t even realize the conversation between Yugyeom and Youngjae was over until he hears Yugyeom make a disgusted noise. “Jesus, they’re sickening. They’re perfect for each other, aren’t they? Both obnoxious, self-important prats.”

“What?” Jaebum says, and it’s sharper than he intended. “Are they  _together?”_

Yugyeom apparently missed the sharpness in Jaebum’s tone, because he just throws him a look that says  _I know, right?_ and says, “That’s what I’ve heard. A girl in my calculus class was talking about it to her friend. Apparently Jackson’s been in love with Jinyoung for years.”

Jaebum almost chokes, but covers it up with a scoff that sounds suspiciously like a cough to his own ears, but Yugyeom doesn’t notice. His face twists up sourly as he watches Jackson and Jinyoung for another moment before standing up abruptly. “If I have to watch this for another second I’m going to be sick. I’m going to get something to eat, do you guys want anything?”

Youngjae and Jaebum both shake their heads no, and Yugyeom shrugs before heading off pointedly down the other side of the corridor away from Jackson and Jinyoung.

Jaebum resumes looking at the huge window, eyes on the plane but brain somewhere very far off. It’s quiet under the white noise of the sounds of bustling life in the airport: people murmuring to each other, occasional announcements over the loudspeaker in various languages, the constantly humming sound of rolling luggage. Suddenly, Youngjae nudges his knee with the toe of his shoe, pulling him out of his head. As if he was dreaming, Jaebum blinks rapidly before realizing Youngjae had said something.

“Say again?”

Youngjae just looks at him, face expressionless, but Jaebum knows him better than that and know that what he’s really doing is analyzing him, and suddenly Jaebum feels self-conscious. He feels his face redden in embarrassment but doesn’t say anything.

“I asked if you’re alright, hyung. You’ve gone a little white, like you’re feeling sick.”

There are a million things that go through his head at once, but he just clasps his hands in his lap and shrugs. “I’m stressed about traveling. You know I don’t really like it.”

Youngjae nods, his intense eyes unflinchingly locked on Jaebum’s own. “Is that all?”

His heart sinks a little. He should know better—Youngjae can sense things about him that Yugyeom really can’t, and one of those is when Jaebum is sugarcoating. He doesn’t feel like examining why he’s so anxious, so he just gives Youngjae a tight smile and nods before breaking eye contact. “Yes, Youngjae. That’s all.”

 

_________________________________

 

After 13 long hours of traveling, the six of them all arrive at their hotel early Saturday afternoon. The plane ride was pleasant, with Jinyoung, Jackson, and Bambam all sitting relatively far away from the three of them, so Jaebum was able to fall into some sort of fitful sleep for the duration of the 11 hour flight and only had to entertain himself for a couple hours or so. They all booked their own private rooms, which Jaebum forces himself to acknowledge that the possibility of them all rooming near each other was more chance than it was done purposefully, because he didn’t even know when Jinyoung made their reservations—he just told Jinyoung what hotel it was and left it at that. Jinyoung didn’t even respond.

The elevators in their London hotel are nearly microscopic, so he is spared from the six of them all cramming into one, and then he’s mercifully bidding Youngjae and Yugyeom farewell as they all split off to their rooms. Luckily, Youngjae is next door to him, but Yugyeom pouts as he goes to the very end of the hallway toward his room. Jaebum barely has the door shut before he hears the elevator ding faintly and Jinyoung’s voice spill out, his Korean slurred like he’s drunk.

“Are we all on this floor?” Bambam asks, punctuating the end of his question with a yawn so loud Jaebum can hear it through the door, and he clenches his jaw in tightly controlled annoyance.

Their voices get louder as they approach his door, and he tries not to listen as he turns the lights on and throws his luggage down on the floor by the dresser.

“Yes, I think so,” Jinyoung says, and his voice comes directly from outside the door, which makes Jaebum jerk in surprise. His voice passes and gets quieter as the three of them move down the hallway until it disappears completely. Exhausted and jumpy, Jaebum tosses himself down on the bed over the blankets and sheets and falls asleep.

A few hours later, he’s startled awake by a quiet knock on the door. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking slowly. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, and is about to lay back down when the knock comes again a little louder. Glancing at the clock, he realizes it’s well past 8pm and the other boys are probably out sightseeing a little or eating, so he can’t imagine who’d be knocking on his door this late. He pushes himself stiffly off the bed, stretching and noticing offhandedly that his hair is sticking up madly and his shirt is wrinkled like he hadn’t washed it in days. He’s too tired to dwell on it, so he pads quietly to the door and undoes the locks, still blinking sleepily as he opens the door. “How can I help yo—“

He stops, startling when he sees Jinyoung standing in the hallway outside his room, looking distinctly uncomfortable and studiously avoiding eye contact. Jaebum turns around and looks back into his room like he was going to see himself still sprawled out on his stomach trapped in some sort of weird, out-of-body dream experience. But he’s not, he’s awake, and for some reason Park Jinyoung is standing outside his door shifting very awkwardly.

“What?” He says, the heaviness of sleep pulling his voice down and softening the sharpness of the way he tries to say it, so it just comes out sounding mumbled.

“Ineedtoborrowsometowels,” he says rapidly, the words all slammed together like he couldn’t get them out fast enough. Jaebum’s still not fully awake, so it just sounds like nonsense.

“What?” he says again, and then finally Jinyoung looks up in exasperation. He looks tired, eyebrows pulled low in annoyance, but his face changes when he looks up into Jaebum’s. It happens too quickly for him to process, so he just keeps looking at Jinyoung in silence until he repeats himself.

“Sorry, can I borrow some towels? All the other boys are gone and I really want to take a shower, and it was faster to just ask instead of calling room service.”

Jaebum wants to just say yes and give him the towels and be done with it, but his mouth works on its own and he asks, “how’d you know which room was mine?”

The question looks like it embarrasses Jinyoung a little, and Jaebum notices the tips of his ears go pink. But his expression stays neutral and he meets Jaebum’s tired gaze head on. “I asked Youngjae.”

This brings up a thousand and one questions, but he’s still too asleep to catch any one of them to ask, so he just turns away without a word and brings back a couple of towels. He hands them to Jinyoung without saying anything, and misses the way his fingers brush the back of Jinyoung’s hand when he takes them. Jinyoung steps backward abruptly, giving him a short bow. “Thank you,” he says tightly, and then he’s off down the hall before Jaebum can even begin to formulate a thought.

The door closes with a quiet  _snick_ behind him as he lays back down on the bed, watching the lights of the London skyline glitter and dance in the darkness of the night outside his 12th floor window for an entire hour before exhaustion takes him back under.

_________________________________

 

“Alright! Alright, enough!” one of the stylists shouts from the next room, and Jaebum can hear Jackson and Bambam’s raucous laughter drowning out the rest of the stylists’ pleas for calm. In the mirror Jaebum sees Yugyeom roll his eyes and feels the way Yugyeom looks—inexplicably annoyed. They’ve been getting styled for a few hours already, the wardrobe people changing his outfit multiple times before deciding on a ridiculous, chambray shirt with a zipper in the middle over some ripped jeans, and Jaebum’s least favorite part, a massive furry vest. It almost offends him, the fur tickling his cheek any time he leans his head too far to either side. The black turtleneck underneath all of it makes him feel a little stifled, so he gets up to go into the hallway where it’s infinitely less stuffy than the tiny dressing room.

He sits on a bench in the hallway across from the open door of their dressing room, and he watches as Youngjae politely lets the stylists poke and prod him as they fix up his clothes. He smiles, the image burying itself in his brain to remember later when he needs it: small, shy, Youngjae, thanking the people who are supposed to be working for him and being the quietest person on the set today,a beacon of calm. Even Yugyeom is competing for most obnoxious model, complaining loudly when the stylist gets tired of trying to style his infinitely messy hair and just throws a black beret over it. He laughs quietly from where he’s sitting outside, catching Youngjae’s eye, who smiles and gives him a thumbs up. Normally so shy and reserved, Jaebum can tell Youngjae is having the time of his life. He looks away when one of the staff members sticks her head in the doorway of the room next to theirs, saying something he doesn’t quiet hear. Then, all of a sudden, he hears Jinyoung’s voice go up in a shout, the loudest he’s ever heard it.

“WHAT?” he practically screams, and Jaebum scoots closer to the wall like he’s afraid of what’s about to happen. “He’s here? He’s  _here?”_

Jaebum has no idea who he could possibly be talking about, but the staff member just quickly abandons her spot in the doorway and hurries away, smiling to herself. He can hear Jinyoung babbling madly, his dialect bleeding into his words as he stumbles over them in excitement. All of the sudden the door is being thrown open, Jinyoung in its threshold, his eyes impossibly wide in his face. His hair is disheveled like he’d been pulling on it in excitement, Jackson’s small jacket thrown haphazardly over a godawful yellow shirt underneath a salmon colored tank top. Jinyoung just stares at him, until he notices who he’s staring at. His face completely darkens in disappointment, which makes Jaebum’s face burn red in anger. It’s not like he’s exactly happy to see Jinyoung here, either, but he’s at least trying to be civil.

Still in the doorway, Jinyoung turns around to yell at Jackson and Bambam in his hurried Korean for playing a trick on him. Horribly, Jaebum notices that Jinyoung isn’t even wearing his pants: his legs are bare, the long pink shirt coming to a rest at midthigh. He looks away quickly, back into their dressing room, where the stylists have finally finished working on Yugyeom and Youngjae and are gathering up their things. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jinyoung let go of the doorframe, turning completely around to stand with his back to Jaebum to continue arguing with Jackson and Bambam.

He’s not even listening to their argument, but he notices that Jinyoung still hasn’t put on his pants, and Jaebum wishes a million times over and over that he didn’t know what color Jinyoung’s boxer briefs are. The brilliant purple color is starkly visible where the material is stretched over his ass, Jinyoung’s hands absentmindedly tucking the salmon tank top into the waistband. Tearing his eyes away, he glares at the back of Jinyoung’s head, furiously wishing he would go back into his dressing room and stop shouting at the top of his lungs when a familiar voice shouts down the long hallway.

“Ah! Jinyoungie!”

The hallway they’re in is mostly empty, the tile floor a stark, hospital white and the concrete walls painted a dark brown. There’s only a few rooms on either side, so the industrial feeling of the building amplifies the person’s voice into a near-shout. It echoes down the hallway, and then Jinyoung’s back is going ramrod straight, his hands disappearing into his hair. Jaebum watches him as he turns around quickly, their eyes meeting for a moment before Jinyoung is leaning out and looking down the hallway. His face positively  _explodes_ into a look of joy so bright it hurts Jaebum’s eyes to look at, and he blinks like he’d been looking directly into the sun.

Then everyone is crowding the doorways as Jinyoung screeches loudly and tears off down the hallway at a dead run, babbling nonsense the entire way down. Laughter erupts from the various open doorways, and then Jaebum watches in disbelief as a familiar blond head turns the corner where Jaebum can see him.

Mark, face absolutely glowing with joy, runs the last couple of steps to Jinyoung and then is stumbling backward as Jinyoung jumps into his arms, shouting. Mark’s arms come around Jinyoung’s lower back and locking tight as Jinyoung wraps his legs around Mark’s waist. Jaebum is as entranced as everyone else at this surprise, watching in a detached sort of disbelief as Jinyoung kisses Mark so hard on the mouth that it makes a noise, and then he’s burying his face into Mark’s neck.

Everyone lets out a chorus of “Aww’s” before clapping quietly and then leaving the two of them to each other. Mark finally puts Jinyoung on his feet, but Jinyoung hangs off him the entire way they come back up the hallway, talking faster than Jaebum can keep up with. As they come up the hallway together, Jaebum throws a glance into their dressing room and is startled when Youngjae’s already looking at him from where he’s leaning in the doorway. He feels his face get hot and swallows his annoyance before looking away.

They’re approaching Jinyoung’s dressing room when Mark finally notices him. His face breaks into a grin and he comes over, pulling Jaebum up and hugging him. “Ah, Jaebum-ah! It’s so good to see you.”

Throwing a glance over Mark’s shoulder, he sees Jinyoung’s face flash with annoyance before turning around and disappearing into their dressing room. He looks back at Mark’s face and smiles. “It’s been a long time, Mark, how’ve you been?”

“Good!” he says, and tells Jaebum quickly about how he’s been going to school here for the last two years, keeping up with Jinyoung through email and text like it matters to Jaebum. “Are you surprised?”

This startles a laugh out of him. “To say the least. How’d you end up here?”

“Well, Jinyoung had told me that your mom set this up for you guys when we were on the phone the other day, and then it just so happens that my sister works for Lilian Baxter as an assistant—“ he turns, looking to see if he can point her out but turns back to Jaebum when he doesn’t see anyone, “so she asked Lilian if I could come to see Jinyoung and she actually asked me to just be in the shoot. So I told everyone to keep it a surprise.” He laughs here, and Jaebum feels his chest tighten at how happy it sounds. He and Mark had never been close, but they were friends in school, and he could never understand how someone as honest and genuine as Mark could love someone like Park Jinyoung, and could love him like this after their relationship fell apart and they moved far away from each other. Jaebum feels a fishhook tug at his heart; a sort of hopelessness at not knowing if he would ever find this with someone else.

He wants to say something else, but his mind snags on Mark saying that Jinyoung had mentioned this on the phone just a few days prior, and he circles it in his mind like a rabid dog. Mark opens his mouth to say something else, but then Jinyoung is impatiently sticking his head out of the door and commanding Mark to come inside so they can talk before the shoot starts. Mark pats him on the shoulder and then disappears inside, the door closing quietly behind him.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Jaebum steps back inside their dressing room to find Yugyeom heatedly arguing with a stylist. Something about it just grinds down on his nerves, and Jaebum feels anger unsteadily push itself into his chest. The stylist is trying to be calm, telling Yugyeom that he shouldn’t eat kimchi right now so that he doesn’t get it on his clothes, but Yugyeom just sneers at her and keeps eating. Inexplicably pissed off and feeling irrational, Jaebum just sits heavily in the makeup chair and tries to tune it out, getting angrier when he hears the stylist storm out of the room, upset.

“You should really be nicer to them, Yugyeom,” Youngjae chastises quietly.

Yugyeom snorts at him, eating loudly. “She was trying to tell me not to eat! I don’t know how long this is going to last, and I’m hungry. I’ll be careful.”

Jaebum just closes his eyes so that he doesn’t scream.

Twenty minutes later, one of the assistants sticks her head into the room. “Hi, boys. Lilian is ready now, if you’ll just follow me, we can get started.”

Yugyeom whoops excitedly, picking up the leather jacket he was given and throwing it over his shoulder. “Do I look like a bad boy, Jaebummie?”

Jaebum’s mood hasn’t improved, so he just rolls his eyes. It seems to placate Yugyeom, who just laughs and steps past him to lazily hit on the assistant.

Youngjae comes quietly up behind him and walks with him, but doesn’t say anything. For once he wishes Youngjae would, because without a hushed conversation between them, he can hear Jinyoung’s voice bouncing off the walls toward them. He’s talking excitedly to Mark, who laughs periodically and shoots back at him every now and then. Jaebum hears the distinct smack of a palm on someone’s body, and he just squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t hit something himself.

The assistant herds the seven of them into a massive room that looks like an office even Jinyoung’s parents couldn’t afford. The hardwood floor is bright and polished, littered with delicately placed area rugs from God knows where and were God knows how much. The furniture is opulent: fainting sofas and giant, gilded mirrors, everything shining in accents of what is probably real gold. The wall opposite them is all window, covered in the softest looking white curtains Jaebum’s ever seen. It diffuses the entire room with a wonderful glow, making the colors look bright and the gold gleam boldly. The polished oak of the chairs and tables looks wet in the soft light.

There’s lighting equipment everywhere, reflected in the tons of mirrors hanging on the walls or standing up in ornate golden frames taller than Yugyeom. The assistant instructs them to have a seat on some of the couches to their right, and when Lilian is ready she’ll pull someone up and tell them where to stand. Jaebum picks a one-seater on purpose, his back mostly turned to everyone so he doesn’t have to talk. He’s been almost silent the entire time, his anger seeming to wrap him up in its hold and not letting go. The others are mostly content to talk amongst themselves, and he quietly overhears a conversation between Jinyoung and Youngjae.

“Are you nervous?” Jinyoung asks softly, the kindness in his voice so genuine it makes Jaebum want to throw something.

“Yes,” he hears Youngjae reply, voice quivering a little. “I don’t usually do things like this. I’m not a model, so I don’t know what to do. Do I just stand there? How do I make it look cool?”

A soft laugh escapes Jinyoung, and Jaebum can see the smile on his face in his mind’s eye after having to see it after so many years, and he hopes that for Youngjae, it’s genuine. “It’ll be fine. She’ll tell you what to do, like how to stand or where to look. You look amazing, and I know they’ll turn out great.”

Youngjae laughs, and Jaebum can practically hear him blushing. “Thank you, Jinyoungie. That means a lot. Hopefully you go before me so that I can learn from you.”

“We’ll see,” Jinyoung says kindly, and Jaebum looks over to see him pat Youngjae’s shoulder lovingly before turning back to Mark and leaning in to whisper in his ear. He can feel Youngjae’s eyes on him, but turns back around without making eye contact. He can’t deal with Youngjae being overly observant right now.

Just then, a small woman sweeps into the room with a large camera strapped around her neck. Jaebum sits up excitedly, finally being able to see Lilian Baxter in person. She’s impossibly small, her tiny body being swallowed up by layers and layers of black, swathing fabric. Her platinum blond hair seems even brighter than Jackson’s and is cut into a severe bob that stops at her jawline. She’s beautiful, and Jaebum suddenly wishes violently that he could be with her.

Her eyes find his immediately, and he’s startled by how green they are. She smiles at him and approaches, footsteps almost silent as she walks toward him.

“Hello,” she says in English. “Are you Im Jaebum?”

Jaebum speaks pretty good English, but rarely speaks it unless he’s forced to. “Yes, I am. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Her face brightens impossibly, and the camera around her neck aways as she laughs softly. “It is nice to meet you as well,” she says in halting Korean, and Jaebum is impressed. It’s very basic and a little off, but she spoke it pretty well. “Would you like to go first?”

He nods and then she’s beckoning him off the couch and pointing at a large mirror hanging over a fireplace. “I want you in front of that. Just be casual.”

The lights are bright when he turns to face them, his back against the marble of the mantle. The entire room goes quiet almost immediately, one of the assistants shouting that they were starting. Some of the lights were switched off in other parts of the room, making the place were Jaebum is reclining agains the fireplace stand out more. She moves around him, her camera firing rapidly as she gets him from every possible angle. Every now and then she looks up at him from behind the camera, smiling at him in a way that makes his stomach feel warm. He flushes red, looking away from her and scanning the rest of the group sitting on the far wall. They’re all watching him, enraptured, except for two of them: Mark and Jinyoung are sitting on a two seater couch a little away from everyone else, their heads bent together as they talk in hushed whispers. He can’t really explain why, but knowing the two of them aren’t watching him makes him irrationally upset. Even Jackson and Bambam are watching him, enamored, but Jinyoung and Mark seem to be completely in their own place. Jaebum wants to break something.

“Ah!” She finally exclaims, after directing Jaebum into various poses and places in the room, and her outburst makes Mark and Jinyoung look up. Jaebum glances at them from where he’s sprawled on a couch, arms thrown across the length of the back and his legs spread wide and careless. He can still feel Jinyoung’s eyes on his when he looks away, and his jaw tightens in barely controlled annoyance. “Wonderful job, Jaebum. These are wonderful, you’re a natural.”

Getting up, he thanks her with a small bow and returns to his seat, shedding the fur vest and handing it to an assistant before sitting back down. The rest of the boys quietly congratulate him, Yugyeom making a few suggestive remarks that Jaebum just rolls his eyes at.

The rest of the boys go quickly in succession: Mark, then Yugyeom, then Bambam, Jackson, Youngjae. She chooses Jinyoung last, leading him to a seat near the window. The seat is huge and has an elaborate, gold frame, so tacky that it hurts to look at. Lilian has Jinyoung stand behind it for a few frames, catching his different angles before moving on. Jaebum watches him along with the other boys, eyes on his face. He looks anxious, and it’s drawing his expression in a way that makes Lilian cluck her tongue at him.

“Relax your face, Jinyoung,” she prods gently, earning a small smile from him that she snaps immediately before it fades.

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, and leans back against the couch with his arms folded. “Has he ever done this before?” he asks, and it’s loud enough that Jinyoung can hear him.

No one answers him for a moment, not sure what to say, and then Mark steps in. “Not really. He’s been in photo shoots for the country clubs when he was younger, but nothing this professional. It’s not really his thing.”

With a sharp laugh, Yugyeom just nods. “I can tell.”

Mark and Jackson share an angry look, but don’t say anything and look away. It goes quiet for a little while, all of them watching Jinyoung pose this way and that, but even Jaebum sees the stiffness of his shoulders and the way he’s having trouble relaxing into the atmosphere. Lilian looks frustrated, still gently prodding him into smiling or trying to get him to relax his face a little.

“He looks so uncomfortable,” Mark whispers to Jackson, sounding worried. “Should we stop her?”

“By all means, stop her,” Yugyeom says, again at a volume that Jinyoung can hear them. Jaebum notices Jinyoung look over at them, face going a little pale before he looks away and clenches his jaw. “It would save us from the awkwardness of whatever is happening right now.”

Youngjae looks like he wants to say something, but just looks at the ground, not wanting to fight.

Jinyoung mutters something to Lilian, who nods and takes a step back. Jinyoung comes around and sits down in the chair, still looking stiff as a board. She takes a few more before instructing him to sit differently, but his face still looks pained and uncomfortable.

“I really don’t think he likes it,” Mark murmurs to Youngjae, who’s sitting beside him. “He looks like he’s getting upset.”

Yugyeom, overhearing this, jumps on the opportunity. “Come on, Jinyoung. I know you can flaunt it better than this. Even Bambam’s was going better than this.”

Jaebum can see the hurt on his face from all the way across the room, and something inside him feels like it’s going to break, sticking out sharply inside his chest. Jinyoung pales further and almost stands up, his knuckles turning white from where he’s grabbing the arms of the chair.

“Oh, Jinyoung-ah, show us your aegyo!” Yugyeom crows, and Jinyoung flinches like every word is a shout. “Do kiyumi song!”

Mark gets up, leaving the room abruptly and leaving Jackson to chase after him. Yugyeom continues, “Jinyoungie! Oh Jinyoungie, oppa, so cute! You’re so—“

_“YUGYEOM, ENOUGH!”_

It comes out louder than he intended, and Jaebum’s voice echoes through the room. He couldn’t stand it anymore—Yugyeom ceaselessly badgering Jinyoung, who looked like he was going to be sick the entire time Lilian was trying to photograph him, obviously uncomfortable. Every one of Yugyeom’s words looked like an arrow straight into Jinyoung’s stomach, and finally the rage in Jaebum could no longer contain itself. Every head in the room swivels toward Jaebum, whose own knuckles are turning white from where he’s gripping the armrest of the chair he’s sitting on. Lilian turns, startled, obviously unaware of the insults Yugyeom was slinging across the room. His eyes flick to Jinyoung, who’s staring at him with his mouth hanging open like he’s never seen anything like it in his life, the shock apparent in his face by the spots of pink appearing on his cheeks.

Jaebum just seethes quietly, chest rapidly rising and falling in quick snaps like he’d just run a thousand miles. It’s the second time in a couple of days where he’s honestly worried that he’s going to hit Yugyeom if he opens his mouth.

Everyone’s staring at him, and Yugyeom looks at him in utter disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jaebum turns his gaze on Yugyeom, who visibly flinches at the heat in his gaze. “You heard me. That’s  _enough_. If all you’re going to do is sit here and taunt Jinyoung, then you need to go back to the dressing room where you can do it  _alone.”_

Yugyeom’s face goes an incredible shade of red, and looks as if he’d been slapped. Without a word he stands up and storms out, throwing the leather jacket down onto the chair beside the doorway before disappearing through it. The room is still dead silent, with everyone else still watching him and whispering to each other. No one was expecting an outburst, and no one was expecting it to be that volatile. Mark and Jackson come back into the room just as Lilian is taking her camera from her around her neck and sighing heavily.

“Alright, everyone. That’s enough for today. I’ve gotten what I need.” She comes to them and  thanks them all individually, saving Jaebum for last. Lilian looks guarded now, shaking his hand briskly and thanking him quietly in broken Korean before sweeping out of the room in much the same fashion as she did coming in.

After her departure, the atmosphere in the room breaks a little, and the staff start to talk in more normal voices, cleaning up the equipment. The other boys break into conversation, and Jaebum stands off to the side against the wall with his arms folded. They look over at him a few times, but judging by the looks on their faces, he doesn’t think he’s got the best look on his own and they avoid talking to him. Which is fine, because he doesn’t think he can say anything without flying off the handle. He can’t believe how angry he is—it’s been slowly building all day, one small annoyance after another, and then Yugyeom’s incessant badgering making Jinyoung look like he was going to cry just the flame to the tinder. Sometimes he couldn’t stand Yugyeom’s unnecessary cruelty on a good day, and today was one of the worst. Deep in thought, he almost doesn’t notice Jinyoung walking toward him slowly, like he’s afraid. Dropping his arms, he leans all the way back against the wall, watching Jinyoung warily as he approaches.

Jinyoung stops in front of him, flushed from his neck to the tops of his ears. He looks like he’s going to say something, constantly licking his lips and opening his mouth but closing it again right away. His nervous fidgeting is starting to make Jaebum anxious, and the longer he does it the more Jaebum feels like he’s going to snap at him.

Finally, Jinyoung clears his throat and looks at Jaebum’s neck instead of his face.  “Ah, Jaebum. Thank you.”

For some reason, this was not what Jaebum had expected. He starts, looking at Jinyoung in surprise. “What?”

Jinyoung flinches a little, like that’s what he was expecting Jaebum to do. He feels guilty immediately. Jinyoung looks up at his face this time, finding his eyes and holding them, the blush still a bright pink stain on his cheeks. “Thank you. For standing up to Yugyeom for me. I know that’s not how you meant it, and that we was probably just annoying you—“ he stumbles a little, embarrassed, “but…yes. Thank you. For saying something to him.”

Jaebum feels like the room has shifted slightly, the floor at a distinctly different angle than it was moments ago, and he feels like he’s starting to slide in different directions. He can’t think of what to say at first, but then his mouth goes before his brain can catch up and says, “I was sticking up for you, too. He’s annoying, sure, but you looked really uncomfortable and his commentary wasn’t necessary. I’m sorry he was being such a dick.”

The response seems to shock Jinyoung into silence. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth in a way that Jaebum looks at multiple times in their silence. Finally, Jinyoung offers him a tentative smile. “Thank you, Jaebum. I mean that.”

Before Jaebum can reply, Jackson comes up to Jinyoung and leans in, quickly whispering something into Jinyoung’s ear. It’s too fast and quiet for Jaebum to hear, but whatever it is turns Jinyoung a bright red, his hand coming up to grab Jackson’s suit jacket. “Right now?”

Jackson smiles at him, only sparing Jaebum a grateful glance before turning back to Jinyoung, a hand on his lower back as he starts to guide him away. The voice Jackson uses is thicker and sweeter than honey and it makes Jaebum’s stomach feel like it’s bottoming out. “If you want to. The room’s empty, and Mark said he’d keep everyone out…”

Jaebum can’t believe he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing, but then Jinyoung’s eyes are dipping down to Jackson’s throat and back up to his face, looking at Jackson with a desire Jaebum feels like he’s intruding on, so he looks away. He swallows hard, his heart beating quickly against his ribcage like it’s trying to get out. Almost against his will, he looks over just in time to see Jackson leading Jinyoung out the door, both hands on his waist and pushed up against his back like he can’t stand to be an inch apart. Then they’re gone, and Youngjae is calling toward him from outside the room, only his head visible around the doorframe. “Come on,” he says, eyes smiling. “We’re going to go have dinner in the courtyard.”

  
The atmosphere in the courtyard is infinitely better, with Yugyeom noticeably not present. The four of them sit at a table in the sunshine, shorn of their jackets and shirt sleeves rolled up. Jackson and Jinyoung haven’t shown up yet, but no one mentions it. Bambam and Mark were a little nervous to be alone with Jaebum at first, but Mark’s presence and the lack of Yugyeom had improved his mood, so he felt a little friendlier. For the first time that day, he felt like having a good conversation, and Bambam was amazingly funny, something he never realized.

Bambam was in the middle of a story when he breaks off mid-sentence and whistles loudly. “There they are! Hey, you two! Finally!”

Jaebum turns, dread already settling in the bottom of his stomach as he knows what he’s going to see.

Jackson and Jinyoung are coming toward them, back in their street clothes. He’s powerless to not noticing that Jinyoung’s shirt is stretched out at the bottom, like it had been fisted in someone’s hand and pulled on. Jinyoung immediately goes red in the face, eyes quickly looking at Jackson with a smile on his face. Jackson just looks cocky, walking with his chin up and his arm around Jinyoung’s waist. As they get closer, Jaebum notices with a hollow sort of feeling that Jinyoung’s hair is done for—it’s still damp with sweat near his temples, and it looks like it’s been ravaged, sticking up in odd places no matter how hard he tries to keep it all down. When they sit, Jackson to Jaebum’s left and Jinyoung across from him, Jinyoung makes brief eye contact before looking away. Jaebum looks down at Jinyoung’s neck and feels his stomach trip over itself at the marks already bruising into the skin. Jaebum realizes with a sort of horrible clarity that Jackson and Jinyoung just had sex. Rough, from the state of Jinyoung’s neck, and the red marks circling Jinyoung’s wrists. Jaebum tosses down his chopsticks with more force than he intended, their clatter on the wooden surface of the table drawing some glances his way.

“All good, Jaebum?” Youngjae asks, eyes on him as he continues to lean over his bowl of noodles. He looks back at him pointedly, wishing he could communicate telepathically that he really just wants to go now.

“Yes. I actually just remembered that I have a ton of stuff I need to pack before we head to the airport in a few hours, so I think I’m gonna go do that.” He stands up, catching Youngjae’s eyes across the table.

“I’ll come with you,” he says, setting his chopsticks down and standing up as well. “I should pack my bags as well. See you later, everyone.”

The rest of the group choruses a farewell to Youngjae, but Jaebum hangs back a little and only offers a small wave. As Youngjae says his goodbyes, he can’t help but cast one last glance at Jinyoung, and Jaebum startles when Jinyoung is already looking at him with an unreadable expression. Face burning, he tucks his chin into his shoulder patiently until Youngjae touches his arm and guides him away.

“Are you alright?” he asks once they’re far enough away, waiting on the curb in front of the grounds for a car to pick them up and take them back to their hotel. Absently, Jaebum wishes he could have seen some more of London while he was here.

He runs a hand through his hair, unaware of how fidgety it makes him look. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Youngjae gives him a pointed look that he pretends not to see. “It was nice of you to stand up for Jinyoung.”

Internally, Jaebum cringes. He looks out into the driveway, admiring how autumn is in full swing here, with different colored leaves littering the ground and wet with rain. “He didn’t deserve it. Yugyeom was being unnecessarily cruel. And very, very annoying.”

“Did you stand up for him because he was being annoying or because he was being cruel to Jinyoung?”

Jaebum doesn’t answer him.

_________________________________

 

Once they all return to school and recover from jetlag, things resume normally, albeit a little more pleasant on Jaebum’s and Jinyoung’s parts. Soccer practice is relatively calm now, with the two of them actually communicating when they need to, and making a joke here and there that the other actually laughs at without trying to take it back after. The rest of their team steal confused glances at each other behind their backs, but Jaebum doesn’t feel like he needs to explain their newfound respect for each other. It’s not friendship by any stretch, but Jaebum feels as though their lives are infinitely easier not being at each other’s throats all the time.

Yugyeom avoids him for an entire two weeks. He dodges all of Jaebum’s phone calls, and purposefully sits on the opposite side of the room when they have class together so that he’s not even within earshot. Jaebum doesn’t really force himself on Yugyeom yet, knowing that when he calms down and realizes Jaebum wasn’t trying to be mean he’ll come around. At the week and a half mark Jaebum starts to get a little nervous about it, since Yugyeom won’t even look at him when they pass each other, and people are starting to talk about it in the hallways. But then right after two exact weeks pass, Yugyeom is throwing open his dorm room door unannounced and flouncing onto the bed, halfway on top of Jaebum. He huffs, the wind knocked out of him as Yugyeom’s elbow lands directly in his stomach.

“Oh my god, why?” Jaebum wheezes, clutching his stomach. Yugyeom just mumbles something into the pillows, scooting over toward the wall so that he’s not laying half on top of Jaebum and mostly just taking up the entirety of the twin-sized bed.

“What?” Jaebum asks, throwing a leg over Yugyeom’s when he realizes it’s useless to fight for room.

Yugyeom turns his face toward him, looking up from one eye. “I said, I’m sorry for being an idiot for two weeks.”

Jaebum just laughs. “It’s fine. I knew you’d come around.”

“How’re things with Jinyoung?”

This earns Yugyeom a sharp glance, but Jaebum smooths his expression before Yugyeom catches it (he hopes). “Fine. We’re not trying to kill each other anymore.”

“That’s good.” Yugyeom pulls out his phone from his pocket, opening up some pictures. He hands it to Jaebum and says, begrudgingly, “I feel bad for being mean. His turned out really well.”

Jaebum looks at the pictures, stopping at Jinyoung’s and staring at it. He looks damn near perfect, a soft scowl on his face that not even professional models can attain. The ridiculous yellow and pink ensemble they put him in looks way better under the jacket they’d given him, and Jaebum feels a weird sort of appreciation worm its way into his gut. He hands back Yugyeom’s phone quickly, not wanting to look at it anymore. “They came out really great. Yours looks good too.”

Yugyeom just smirks. “I know.”

Their friendship repaired, Jaebum punches him lightly in the back and settles down next to him, the two of them tangled up and talking until Yugyeom inexplicably falls asleep with his face directly in the sunlight streaming into the window. Not wanting to wake him up, Jaebum gently tries to get his phone from his pocket and nearly drops it on the floor. He catches it before it can clatter to the ground, relief washing through him even as he unlocks it and notices there’s a message waiting from a number he doesn’t recognize.

_Jaebum?_

He shoots back a quick text, puzzled.  _Yes?_

A reply comes a few minutes later, and he hates the way his heart kicks into high gear when he opens it.

_It’s Jinyoung._

Jaebum hesitates, feeling his palms get slick with sweat where he’s clutching the phone. He doesn’t remember ever giving Jinyoung his number, and he can’t imagine what he would want at this time of day, since he was probably still in class or doing homework. He texts back nervously, unconsciously biting his lip.  _Hi. What can I do for you?_

He cringes a little, thinking it sounds too formal, and waits anxiously for the reply to come. It comes a few minutes later:

_Very polite._

His heart sinks a little, unsure whether or not Jinyoung was kidding, and he’s in the middle of an explanation when his phone buzzes with another text from Jinyoung:

_Anyway, my parents are in town. They’re having a huge dinner at that fancy hotel downtown and they want me to bring someone. Do you want to come?”_

There’s a very familiar feeling of the room tilting on its side when he reads the text. Disbelief weighs his body down, like the feeling of it is so heavy in his bones that he can feel it. Jinyoung’s inviting him to  _dinner?_ It’s not incredibly out of reach—much like Jaebum’s parents love Jinyoung, Jinyoung’s parents always doted and loved on Jaebum like he was their other son, much to Jinyoung’s chagrin.

He feels a little awkward asking, but Jaebum can’t believe he’s asking him, of all people, so he tries to get some more information.  _Who else is going? Jackson?_

Jinyoung’s reply is immediate:  _No. Just me._

Now he’s  _really_ confused.  _Shouldn’t you be asking Jackson?_

The reply takes a little longer this time, making Jaebum sweat. When it comes, he can, in a strange way, sense that Jinyoung is getting a little frustrated.

_Does that mean that you don’t want to go?_

He cringes a little.  _That’s not what I mean, just thought you would ask your boyfriend first._

It’s half a genuine statement and half an inquiry, just to see if Jinyoung confirms or denies that Jackson is officially his boyfriend.

_My parents don’t like my boyfriend, but they like you. So I’m asking you._

For some reason, his heart sinks. It’s not like he didn’t already know that they were together: he practically watched Jackson drag Jinyoung into an empty room to fuck, and when they came out Jackson’s name was practically written all over Jinyoung’s body in bites and bruises. Still feeling a little sick to his stomach, he replies,  _Okay. But why?_

_Is it not enough that my parents like you?_

This conversation feels like it’s going downhill super fast and Jaebum doesn’t know if he can save it. He worries that Jinyoung’s going to take it back.  _It is. I was just wondering._

_Wondering why I’m still asking you instead of Jackson even though my parents don’t like him?_

_Yes._

The reply takes a lot longer this time, and Jaebum puts his phone down on his chest for a while to avoid anxiously watching the screen.

_This isn’t about you or me, Jaebum. My parents would really like to see you, and I don’t want to deal with their snide remarks about Jackson all night. It’s just easier. Do you want to come or not?_

Instinctively, he knows he’s going to say yes. He wonders, then, what it really was that made Jinyoung ask him. He could have asked Bambam, or even Youngjae, since they seem to be getting closer. But he chose him—why? Jaebum can’t figure it out. And maybe it is just about Jinyoung’s parents loving him, and not any other reason, but the thought that maybe it’s something else sticks out like something painfully caught between his teeth.

_Yes, I’ll go._

Jinyoung’s reply is fast, like he’d been waiting by the phone. Jaebum pushes this thought out of his mind.  _Okay. It’s tomorrow night. Wear something formal._

Jaebum isn’t going to reply, wanting childishly to have the last word. But even after he’s put his phone down, glancing over at a still sleeping Yugyeom, there’s something nagging at him. He picks his phone back up and texts Jinyoung back.  _How’d you get my number?_

_I got it from Youngjae._

He doesn’t know how to feel about this, so he just places his phone facedown on his bedside table and curls up around Yugyeom, staring at the wall over his sleeping friend’s head.

 

_________________________________

 

The day passes quickly, and then Jaebum is nervously pacing around his room in his dress clothes waiting to hear from Jinyoung on where he should meet them. It’s the first time he’s seeing Jinyoung’s parents in a few years, and now that he’s beyond the wealth his family had when they first met, he still feels the need to impress them. He picked out his finest pieces: designer black slacks, slim cut and short enough to show his bare ankles above the shining, unmarked black of his shoes. Carefully tucked into the pants is his favorite powder-blue button down carefully layered under a black vest with microscopic pinstripes the same color as his shirt. Not wanting to sweat through it while nervously fidgeting about his room, his blazer the same slick black as his pants lays carefully folded on his desk.

It approaches six o’clock, and Jaebum is considering just calling Jinyoung’s number when there’s a light tapping on the door. He thinks it might be Yugyeom, so he stalks over and throws the door open, mouth already open in chastisement:

“Not right now, Yugyeom, I have to go—“

He stops halfway through, mouth still open, when he sees Jinyoung on his doorstep.

Jinyoung looks fairly uncomfortable, looking at Jaebum for a few seconds and then away, like there’s something more interesting on the doorframe or the ceiling. He’s dressed to the nines in a suit the same shade of red as the flush on his cheeks; like blood. The black button down underneath is done all the way up the neck, a black tie almost indistinguishable against the fabric. His red suit jacket is folded expertly over his forearm, a black peacoat cinched at the waist making him look smaller than he really is. There’s a moment of tense silence as they size each other up, both of them uncomfortably looking away at the same time.

“Ah, Jinyoung, I wasn’t expecting you—“

“I know,” he says, voice rough, and he clears it quietly before continuing, “I’m sorry, I should have let you know that I was coming to get you instead of having you meet us somewhere. The car is out front, though, so we should get going.”

Wordlessly, Jaebum nods and grabs his blazer and shrugging it on before closing the door behind the both of them. He notices Jinyoung watching him, eyes somewhere on his chest, probably trying to decipher what brand his clothes are.

“That vest is nice,” he says, startling Jaebum out of the annoyance that was starting to creep up in him.

“Thanks,” he says, smoothing a hand down the front of it in a way that makes Jinyoung swallow and look away, which he misses.

A little awkwardly, they head to the car in silence. The driver just nods to Jinyoung as they both climb into the backseat, Jinyoung sliding all the way over and letting Jaebum sit at the other window. The car isn’t big, so there’s only about a foot or two of room between them. The silence is charged and awkward, neither of them saying anything or even looking directly at each other. The driver says a few things to Jinyoung here and there and Jinyoung replies politely but without much enthusiasm. Jaebum’s starting to wonder if this is a good idea when they finally pull up to the curb of a massive hotel, the driver quickly getting out and opening the doors for them.

He stares upward, unable to help it—the front of the hotel looks like its entirely made of one sheet of glass, broken up here and there only by small intersection lines of different floors. It seems to go impossibly high up into the sky, the very top disappearing into the light fog the early autumn weather has brough them. Jinyoung elbows him gently, motioning with his head to follow him inside as the driver leaves them. If the outside was impressive, the inside is even more so, and Jaebum can’t help but feel stunned that they’re about to have a completely private dinner here with Jinyoung’s parents: the lobby is stark and minimal, with marble floors, counters, and pillars. The black swirls in the marble seem to glitter in the soft light like tiny dark rivers of stars, and Jaebum finds himself captivated by the beauty of it all.

“This place is beautiful,” he says, still trying to drink everything in with his eyes and missing the way Jinyoung looks back at him with a small smile on his face.

“It is. I’m glad you like it. Here,” he says, and then they’re approaching a massive oak door with the word  _Reserved_ written on it in an ornate gold script, so fancy it makes Jaebum feel like even in his expensive suit he’s just a little too dingy to be here.

The door quietly creaks open to reveal a massive dining room styled in the same marble as the lobby, with the longest glass table Jaebum has ever seen bisecting the middle of the room. There’s a smattering of people seated at intervals along it, and at the very head of the table he recognizes Jinyoung’s parents at the same time they notice their arrival.

“Ah, Jinyoungie!” His mother crows, rising from her seat and hurrying over to him. She catches her son’s face in between her perfectly manicured hands, looking at him with a fondness so profound Jaebum looks away, his heart contracting. “My boy, you look so handsome. That suit is so wonderful on you, we must get you more of them in different colors. Take the coat off, let me see it with the jacket on.”

He just laughs quietly, in a way that Jaebum’s never quite heard before. It seems reserved just for his mother, and Jinyoung only throws him a quick glance as he removes his peacoat. Someone appears beside them to take it, disappearing just as quickly to take it to an unseen coat room. Jinyoung slides on the jacket, the startling red dimmed by the soft orange light coming from the massive glass candelabras set into the walls at perfectly measured intervals. His mother just smiles at him again, one hand over her heart like she can’t even stand it. “Wonderful, darling, and who did you bring with you?”

It takes her a second, but Jinyoung doesn’t answer and she looks into his face, recognition finally lighting her features to a sunshine-bright glow. “Oh, Jaebum! Oh, Jaebum, you’ve gotten so tall! And so handsome!” Jinyoung’s mother whirls on Jinyoung then, her dress swishing on the floor as she does it, the black fabric as impeccable as her son’s. “Where have you been hiding him, Jinyoung? Look at him!”

“I know,” Jinyoung says, studiously avoiding Jaebum’s eyes as he says, “he looks very good.”

She laughs, a musical sound that puts Jaebum a little more at ease. Jinyoung’s mother pets his hair for a moment, absolutely fawning over him to a point that makes him feel like a child again until her husband is calling her back to the table, leaving the two of them alone. He can’t help it—he feels giddy, brave, drunk on wine he hasn’t even tasted yet. “You think I look good, Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung doesn’t look at him, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, lines radiating out from the corners of them with the strain. He opens them, only looking at Jaebum momentarily before his back is turned. “Yes,” is all he says. It’s enough.

Jinyoung’s father motions to them from his seat at the head of the table, a red suit coat similar to the color of his son’s hanging on the back of his chair. “Hello, son, you look wonderful. Ah, Jaebum, you as well. You’ve grown so big!” He laughs, and directs his attention back toward his son, a stern look on his face not entirely masking the pure love on his face. “You didn’t bring the other one, did you?”

Standing behind him, Jaebum can see Jinyoung’s shoulders tighten at the question, back stiffening. “His name is Jackson, father, and no. I didn’t. I brought Jaebum instead.”

“Good,” is all his father says, patting Jinyoung lightly on the arm and motioning for them to sit down. “Go on, have a seat. The food is just now ready, so you’re just in time.”

They end up sitting directly across from each other at the table, the glass feeling expansive and cold to the touch, Jaebum gratefully leaning his elbows against the side of it to feel the coldness seep through the sleeves of his blazer. Jinyoung and his family talk to one another freely, but Jaebum can’t help but notice a tightness at the corner of his eyes and mouth, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen. The food comes out after a few minutes, a beautiful waitress pouring them all glasses of wine so dark red it looks like blood. He takes a sip of it, the taste flooding his mouth and making it tingle with the strength of it. Stealing a glance across the table, he sees Jinyoung already putting his empty glass onto the table and asking the waitress quietly for another glass. Jinyoung doesn’t look at him as she does it, picking the glass up and immediately drowning that one, too. Jaebum frowns.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it too much before Jinyoung’s parents fall on him, giving him the third degree about how the last couple of years have been. They ask him about school, his parents, where they’re living now, if they’re happy there. Any question seemingly possible to ask they think of, and Jaebum barely has time to eat while they talk at him, but he finds he doesn’t mind the attention. Periodically he feels Jinyoung looking at him, sitting almost silently in his seat across the table. Their eyes meet, Jinyoung’s face an unflinching mask of an unreadable expression, his cheeks flushed pink from the wine. Jaebum notices the glass empty again and wonders how many glasses Jinyoung had downed while his parents talked him up.

“Oh, Jinyoung,” his mother sighs lovingly, looking at her son from where she’s resting her cheek in one of her hands next to Jinyoung’s father. “I like this one so much more than Jackson.”

The air between the four of them goes dead silent until Jinyoung is spraying water out of his mouth in a hilarious display of genuine surprise. A small noise of shock comes from his mother, who immediately hands him some cloth napkins. His eyes are impossibly wide, water slipping from the corner of his mouth where he hasn’t quite gotten it all, and he tries to cough quietly into his elbow as he cleans up the liquid from the tabletop and ignore his mother’s comments at the same time.

But she’s relentless, sparing a glance at an equally surprised (but endlessly amused—he can’t believe this is really happening, and the couple of glasses of wine that he had with their meal were starting to wear down his defenses) Jaebum before gently touching her son’s wrist and taking the wet napkins. “You should really date someone more like him. It would balance you out.”

Jaebum’s heart takes a dive inside his chest before coming back up and breaking into a trot, beating a little faster than it was a few moments ago. Jinyoung closes his eyes like he can’t stand to look at her, leaning back in his chair a little before opening them again. “I like Jackson, mother.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” she says, stroking his hand softly. “And Jackson’s nice enough. But Jaebum is so polite, and much quieter. You should really date him, instead.”

No one knows if it’s an accident that she said it or not, but suddenly Jinyoung is standing up violently, the iron legs of the chair scraping back harshly on the marble that makes everyone wince. Everyone stares at Jinyoung, suddenly standing, chest heaving with a barely controlled look of anger on his face. Suddenly seeming unsure what to do, he just wipes his mouth with a napkin, hands trembling violently, before throwing it down on the table. “I’m going outside for a moment. Suddenly I don’t feel very well.”

Jaebum watches in silence as Jinyoung avoids his gaze while he storms from the room, the slam of the heavy oak door setting everyone back in motion. His eyes, wide from shock, find Jinyoung’s mother’s, and she looks upset. “I’m sorry,” she says, sighing heavily and delicately blotting at her mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t think he would get upset. He thinks we don’t like Jackson, you know.”

He’s not sure what to say, so he just nods.

She sighs again, looking forlornly at the door like she’s wishing Jinyoung would come back through it. “We were hoping that him inviting you instead of Jackson meant that he was looking for something a little more serious.”

“He invited me? He told me that you asked him to invite me,” Jaebum says, and feels his heart kick up a notch, the sound of it beating like steady rain in his ears.

“No,” his mother says honestly, like she’s not surprised to hear it. “He asked me if it would be alright if he could bring someone, and we thought he meant Jackson since they’re together now. I wasn’t going to ask since I knew that our disapproval would upset him, but when he told me he would be bringing you, his father and I were delighted. It’s not that we don’t like Jackson, because Jackson is wonderful, but Jinyoungie needs someone a little more serious.”

Jaebum feels like he’s somehow ended up hanging onto the back of a space ship and is rocketing into the atmosphere with the insanity of the direction of this conversation. “I don’t—ah, I don’t think he likes me that way, or very much in general.” But for some reason he doesn’t say anything about himself not liking Jinyoung that way, or not at all. He decides not to examine it too closely.

“Don’t be silly,” his mother says, and Jaebum doesn’t know what she means. Before she can explain, Jinyoung’s father puts a hand gently on her arm.

“Enough. You’re making him uncomfortable. Let him go, darling.”

Jinyoung’s mother looks at him again, a certain look in her eye that he can’t quite place. Maybe it’s the wine, but she looks like she knows something he doesn’t, and then she’s sighing and nodding, the expression gone. “I’m sorry, Jaebum, forgive me. Please, go find Jinyoung and makes sure he gets back to school alright. Thank you for coming, it was wonderful to see you.”

He’s up and away from the table almost instantly, bowing politely to the both of them quickly before making his way outside. Jinyoung’s sitting on a bus stop bench, his jacket thrown carelessly over the seat beside him, shirt unbuttoned at the neck and the tie loose and hanging against his chest. His hair is mussed like he’d been tugging on it, which, Jaebum realizes with a sudden clarity might be a nervous habit. Jinyoung doesn’t look at him when he sits down, but his jaw tightens like he knows it’s him anyway. His face and neck are still flushed a soft red from the wine, but Jaebum isn’t sure how much of it is the wine and how much of it is the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says suddenly. “For whatever she said after I left. She really lets her mouth run away from her sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” Jaebum says, watching the side of his face carefully. They sit in silence for a moment, neither of them saying anything. “They really don’t like Jackson, do they?”

Jinyoung closes his eyes like the words hurt, and Jaebum suddenly wishes he could take the words back. What’s wrong with him today?

“No. It’s not that they don’t like him, because they do, in their way. But they think I could do better. Jackson’s loud, loves drawing attention to himself. He likes being goofy and having fun, and my parents don’t think he’s capable of being serious. They think I should date someone like you.”

The words do something funny to his chest, and he sounds out of breath when he asks, “would you date someone like me, Jinyoung?”

The silence that follows is so thick that Jaebum can feel it weighing down on his shoulders, as though it had a physical presence. He watches Jinyoung as he watches the street in front of them, the reflection of headlights in his dark eyes like the bright spots of tears. Jaebum doesn’t know what he’s expecting Jinyoung to say, but the anticipation feels like bubbles in his throat and he suddenly feels like laughing.

Finally, Jinyoung just sighs and leans back, eyes closed. He looks infinitely exhausted, and Jaebum thinks that maybe the wine is finally settling in; Jinyoung’s words come out a little thick and blurred together. “I don’t know. I’ve never even met anyone like you, Jaebum.”

It’s not quite what he was expecting, but it feels like enough. He looks away from Jinyoung and pulls out his cellphone, calling the car to retrieve them and take them back to campus. It’s quiet between them as they wait, but it’s less awkward than it had ever been. After a few minutes of waiting, a sleek, black SUV pulls up the curb and Jaebum stands up.

“Jinyoung,” he says, before turning around and realizing that Jinyoung’s mostly asleep on the bench. He’s slumped against the back of the bus stop, eyes half closed and his chest rising and falling evenly. Even asleep he looks like he’s exhausted, and Jaebum feels his heart thump painfully, thinking about how tiring it must be to be with Jackson in every sense of the term. Gently, Jaebum puts a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder and squeezes. “Jinyoung,” he says again, softly, “wake up. The car’s here. We’re going to get you home.”

His eyes open all the way, and Jaebum can see that they’re already shot through with red. “I drank too much wine.”

He can’t help it: he laughs quietly, and laughs even more when Jinyoung pouts at him. “I know. It’s time to go.”

With a sigh, Jinyoung pulls himself into a standing position. He immediately starts to teeter, his hand going to steady himself on the metal of the bus stop but missing by a long shot. He tries to catch himself but his footing is dangerously unsteady and then before either of them can react, Jinyoung’s crashing into Jaebum and almost sending both of them to the ground. With a grunt of surprise, Jaebum steadies Jinyoung with his hands on both of his shoulders. “Fuck,” Jinyoung slurs, and he’s standing so close that Jaebum can feel his breath ghost across the skin of his throat and he shudders involuntarily. “Sorry. We should go.”

Jaebum helps him into the car, guiding Jinyoung across the backseat to the window and buckling him in. His knuckles brush against Jinyoung’s stomach as he does it, and even separated by layers of clothing the sensation sends his nerves skittering. Jinyoung makes a soft noise in his throat, and when Jaebum looks up at him there’s a hooded quality to Jinyoung’s eyes that makes his stomach feel warm, so he looks away. Clearing his throat unsteadily, he secures the buckle and removes his hands quickly to his lap. He barely glances at Jinyoung but fails to miss the longing in his eyes. Jaebum looks out the window and pretends he didn’t see it.

Jinyoung fidgets grumpily the entire ride home, but Jaebum doesn’t look back at him. He watches the road, temporarily losing himself in the way the lights pass; greens and reds and blues from the signs on the buildings flicker repeatedly on the dark street as they pass them, an ever revolving wheel of color. He closes his eyes, imagining the wind on his face, and the colors illuminate his closed eyelids in starbursts of neon light. A terrible sort of melancholy fills him suddenly, as though someone had removed the plug in a dike. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to block the feeling before it can eradicate everything else in him, and then suddenly there’s a warm hand on his arm.

“Jaebum, we’re here.”

He opens his eyes, looking immediately at where Jinyoung’s warm hand is burning through the arm of his shirt. As if scolded, Jinyoung pulls it away quickly. He hiccups quietly, and the sound makes Jaebum look up at him. He seems even more exhausted than before, his face washed out from the orange lights of his apartment complex and glistening with a light layer of sweat. “C’mon. Will you walk me to the door? I don’t feel well.”

Without answering, Jaebum reaches down to undo Jinyoung’s seatbelt. Jinyoung moves to do it at the same time and their hands brush. Jinyoung’s skin feels like it’s on fire. He fumbles a little, but then Jaebum gently grabs his wrist and holds it out of the way. Both of them are aware that Jinyoung’s pulse begins to throb a little quicker under Jaebum’s fingers but neither of them say anything. The latch of the seatbelt comes free with a soft  _snick_ , and then Jaebum is reaching across Jinyoung’s lap to open the door. Jaebum slides out on his own side, going around the front of the car to talk to the driver before pulling Jinyoung from the backseat. He thanks the driver quickly, pulling Jinyoung up to his feet and throwing a boneless arm over his own shoulder.

Jaebum mostly carries Jinyoung to the front door of the apartment he shares with Jackson. He babbles nonsensically the entire way, but his words are so thick and slurred together that Jaebum misses 99% of it. When they finally make it to the door Jaebum is ready to just leave him on the porch.

“Where are your keys?” Jaebum asks sternly, trying to keep Jinyoung from going off on a drunken ramble before he can get him inside. Jinyoung just blinks owlishly at him for a moment, dark eyes seemingly massive in the low light. Jinyoung’s eyes search his face, and for a moment they look so alert that Jaebum feels a blush darken his cheeks. He’s glad for the near pitch black of their apartment porch.

Finally, Jinyoung says, “they’re in my pocket.”

“Okay, then get them out so I can unlock the door.”

“Can you get them? I’m tired.”

“No. Give me your keys.”

“They’re in the pocket closest to you. I can’t reach my left arm across that far to dig them out.”

It sounds like a lie, and when Jaebum throws him a sharp look he’s startled to see that Jinyoung’s eyes are still eerily sober-looking. The intensity in which Jinyoung is looking at him waiting for an answer makes him feel like he’s being examined too closely, and the small curve to Jinyoung’s mouth is the only hint to the fact that he’s still drunk. The words feel like a challenge, all of the sudden.

With only a moment of hesitation, Jaebum adjusts Jinyoung so that his arm is free, and then he’s sliding his hand down Jinyoung’s hip until he finds his pocket. Jaebum slips his hand inside, the warmth from Jinyoung’s leg hot on his palm as he reaches deeper into Jinyoung’s pocket. The suit pants he’s wearing are close fitting, and Jaebum can feel the muscle in Jinyoung’s leg through the material in a way that brings a flush to his cheeks. The warmth is suddenly interrupted by the cold press of keys on his fingertips; he closes his hand around them gratefully and slides his hand out of Jinyoung’s pants pocket. The keys balled in his fist makes for more resistance than his flat palm, and then Jinyoung makes a soft noise of pleasure when Jaebum has to move his hand around awkwardly to remove it from his pocket.

The noise is quieter than a whisper, but Jaebum heard it: the soft, sharp, inhale and the shuddering exhale cut off by a swallowed whimper. Jaebum drops the keys, hands shaking, and curses as he picks them up. Not looking back, he shoves multiple keys in the lock before he finds the one that works and practically shoves the door open.

The apartment is near pitch black except for a strip of moonlight bisecting the floor from the slit in the curtains. It illuminates the living room enough that Jaebum gets the basic layout: small living room to their right, a smaller kitchen to their left, and straight ahead a hallway that fades into blackness but he assumes branches off into two bedrooms. He starts to drag a silent Jinyoung to the couch, but then a whine starts up in Jinyoung’s throat. “No, no, take me to my room.”

He can’t tell if Jinyoung is challenging him again, but judging by the way he’s practically gone boneless against Jaebum’s side, he feels confident in assuming that he isn’t. Jaebum grunts as he readjusts a mostly-limp JInyoung against him and drags him down the hallway. “Which one is yours? Left or right?”

Jinyoung mumbles that it’s the one of the left, sounding half asleep, and Jaebum suddenly wishes with a violent fervor that Jinyoung’s boyfriend was the one who was dealing with this. He supposes he could just start shouting and wake Jackson up to deal with this so he can run away as fast as possible, but then they’re at the door to Jinyoung’s room and he doesn’t see the point. He got this far, he can go the last few steps to toss Jinyoung onto his bed.

Jaebum shoulders the door open, almost dropping Jinyoung in the process. The room is illuminated dimly by a small moon-shaped lamp on the dresser, and it gives Jaebum enough light to avoid stepping on dirty laundry as he drags Jinyoung to his bed. He dumps him unceremoniously on top of the covers, only going as far as lifting his legs up onto the bed before he’s turning around to leave.

“Wait.”

He really doesn’t want to, but the roughness of Jinyoung’s voice stops him dead in his tracks. He turns slowly, finding Jinyoung’s eyes in the pale light of the lamp. He’s pushed himself up onto his elbows, tie abandoned and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. The challenge in his eyes is gone now, replaced by a look of desperation that almost drives Jaebum to near-madness. They stare at each other in silence, the time stretching on and on between them with no words exchanged. Jinyoung’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes huge and wild in his face. Jaebum doesn’t understand what’s happening to them, exactly, but part of him hopes it never stops.

Finally, Jinyoung asks him, “are you going home?”

It’s not what he was expecting, and he’s disappointed in himself when he feels crestfallen. “Yes.”

“It’s late.”

“Yes,” he says again.

“Do you want to stay?”

Jinyoung asks softly, so softly. The question is so quiet he thinks he misheard it, but the look in Jinyoung’s eyes is telling him that he didn’t. His heart is suddenly thundering in his ears, his pulse beating madly in his throat. What is he expecting? Jinyoung is dead drunk, the room next to his belonging to his sleeping boyfriend. Jaebum can’t possibly grasp what he’s expecting, what he wants, but he feels rooted to the spot in anticipation.

He tries to say something; it catches. He clears his throat quietly but it sounds like a thunderclap in the silence of the room. “With you?”

“Do you want to stay with me?”

The question catches Jaebum like a kick in the stomach. The silence that follows presses down on him like two hands on his windpipe. He swallows hard.

“No,” he lies.

Jinyoung lays back down on the bed and doesn’t look at him. His voice sounds different when he says, “it’s late and your dorm is far. At least sleep on the couch.”

“Alright.”

Jinyoung doesn’t reply, so the word falls on the air like a slammed door. Minutes pass. Finally, Jinyoung’s breathing evens out and Jaebum leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He makes his way back to the living room, fingertips trailing the wall more to keep him grounded than for guidance. Sweat plasters his hair to his temples, and when he finally collapses onto his back on the couch he can feel where his shirt is wet. The house around him is silent, save for the occasional white noise of a sleeping body shifting down the hallway. Every nerve in his body feels like a live wire: even just the rasp of the rough blanket on his skin sends goosebumps up and down his arms and legs. He watches the headlights from passing cars illuminate the room from the small gap in the curtains, the night’s events replaying over and over and over in his head for what feels like hours. Jaebum considers just slipping out and booking it home, but then his body gives up on him and he falls asleep on Jinyoung’s couch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres a tiny part in jinyoung's POV in this, but it's in parentheses and italicized so you can see where it begins and ends~~~~

Hours later, he rockets into a sitting position after being woke up by a loud thump from somewhere in the house. Heart hammering in his chest, he hears a low moan of “Oh, Jesus,” come from down the hallway. It’s bright in the living room, the sun completely up now; most of the light blocked by the navy curtains that he absentmindedly wonders if Jackson picked out. The house goes quiet again, so he lowers himself to his elbows, willing his heart to slow down. He remembers Jinyoung being absolutely plastered the night before, so he wonders if the noise he heard was Jinyoung falling into something. Concerned, he throws the blankets from his legs and stands up, stretching briefly before padding quietly down the hallway.

As he nears the split in the hallway, he hears a sharp intake of breath followed by another low groan. The voice sounds more high pitched than Jinyoung’s, and his bedroom door is still closed so it’s possible that it’s just Jackson. He stops, unsure if he should still check up on him.

“Fuck,” he says, and it’s definitely Jackson’s voice. “Jesus!”

It sounds strained, and the loud thump from earlier suddenly makes Jaebum worried that Jackson might have hurt himself. He doesn’t particularly care for Jackson, but he knows Jinyoung does, and he’d feel guilty if Jackson needed his help. Jaebum pads down the hallway toward the bathroom, the cracked door spilling a bar of crisp light into the hallway. Jackson’s breathing is labored, coming in quick pants like he’s hurt, and in a panic Jaebum closes the distance between him and the door and pushes it open.

He stops dead, the door coming to rest silently a few inches away from the wall, hand still outstretched. Jackson is facing him, leaning against the counter. He’s shirtless, hair mussed like he’d just woken up. Little gasps and sighs are escaping his mouth, his throat taut where his head is leaned back and his eyes squeezed shut. Jaebum finally looks down, his entire body going cold like he’d been dropped into a pool of ice water.

Jinyoung is kneeled down in front of Jackson, his back to the bathroom door, his dress shirt open and hanging haphazardly off both shoulders like it’d been shoved off in a hurry and didn’t quite make it down his arms. Jackson’s sweats are pulled hastily halfway down his thighs, the tanned skin of them marked with red lines the exact distance apart as fingernails. Jinyoung’s head is slowly bobbing back and forth, his hair infinitely messier than he’s ever seen it.

With a horrible, horrible clarity, Jaebum realizes that Jackson isn’t hurt, and the noise he heard earlier wasn’t anyone falling into anything, and that he’s just walked in on Jinyoung sucking Jackson’s dick.

His entire body locks up, freezing him in place. Jackson’s panting suddenly sounds like gunfire in the silence, and Jaebum is horrified that he can’t look away from where Jinyoung’s got both hands on Jackson’s thighs, nails digging in. It makes Jackson’s breath hitch, curse words streaming out of his mouth on a low moan that feels like a kick in the stomach. Jinyoung must be working his mouth like a pro, Jackson’s hands curled into fists on the counter so tight his knuckles are white.

“Fuck, Jinyoungie, keep going,” he practically whimpers, and Jaebum feels his eyes go impossibly wide. He watches Jinyoung’s hands slide gracefully up Jackson’s thighs to his hips, getting a hold on them and pulling Jackson closer. Judging by the way Jackson’s eyes snap open and his breath snag on a sharp gasp, Jinyoung is doing something mind-blowing, and then Jackson’s eyes find his where he’s still frozen in the doorway.

Time seems to come to a standstill as they stare at each other, Jinyoung completely oblivious to the drama unfolding over him. Then, all at once, Jackson smiles at him, sharp as a razor blade. Dread pools in Jaebum’s stomach as he realizes that he’s caught, but instead of saying anything, Jackson just grabs a fistful of Jinyoung’s hair and keeps his eyes on Jaebum. He hears Jinyoung whimper around Jackson’s dick, and the sound punches the air out of him. Jackson just grins madly. “Christ, Jinyoungie, you’re so good, feels so—“ he gasps involuntarily, hips bucking a little, Jinyoung’s hands steadying them and taking the unexpected movement like he’s been doing it for years. “Feels so good. Fuck.”

Jaebum hears Jinyoung laugh quietly in his chest, his hands slipping around to grab Jackson’s ass with both hands. Jackson bites his lip, mouth falling open as Jinyoung picks up the pace a little. Jaebum’s brain is screaming  _RUN! RUN! RUN!_ at him, the scene in front of him stretching out into what feels like hours, but his entire body is locked up, hand still outstretched from where it had pushed open the door. The heartbeat thundering in his ears isn’t enough to block out the wet sounds of Jinyoung’s mouth working Jackson’s cock like he was born for it. Jackson just watches him, smugness radiating off him even as he gasps and moans. Their eyes locked, Jackson pleads, “Jinyoungie, moan for me, wanna hear you-“ his breath hitches, knocking his sentence off track, “wanna hear you moan around me.”

And without hesitation, the near silence is punctuated with quiet moans from low in Jinyoung’s throat. The sound goes straight to Jaebum’s dick, heat pooling in his gut like spilled liquid, and guilt wars with arousal in his mind while his body goes on autopilot. He squeezes his eyes shut, screaming at himself to go, to get the fuck out of there before he loses it or before Jinyoung notices and everything goes to hell, but the kitten-mewl-like filth coming from Jinyoung’s throat has him paralyzed. He’s never wanted to die more than he does in this moment.

“Close your eyes, Jinyoungie,” Jackson pants madly, and Jaebum’s eyes open in time to see Jackson pulling savagely on Jinyoung’s hair. With a whimper, Jinyoung pulls off Jackson’s dick with a wet pop that drives into Jaebum’s ears like a railroad spike. Jackson tilts Jinyoung’s head back, the skin at this throat stretched taut over the muscle. Jackson tilts Jinyoung’s head back enough that Jaebum can see the shadow of Jinyoung’s eyelashes on his cheeks, his eyes closed in pleasure or pain, or both. His cheeks are stained a dark red, sweat at his temples and disappearing down his neck. He can just barely see Jinyoung’s mouth, swollen red and shining wetly in the light from above them. It’s absolutely pornographic, Jinyoung looking like the manifestation of every boy’s wet dreams. Jackson’s erection bumps Jinyoung’s chin and then he finally comes back to himself, turning so abruptly that his shoulder knocks painfully into the doorframe. He’s already down the hallway and around the corner when he hears Jinyoung make a startled noise and ask, voice rough, “was that Jaebum? Is he still here?”

“Yes, that’s Jaebum,” he hears Jackson say, frantically slipping into his shoes in the living room, his body on fire. He’s in the doorway and getting ready to slam it behind him when he hears Jackson purr faintly, “but he’s gone now. Let’s go back to bed, yeah?”

He practically runs the entire way back to his dorm, almost breaking the doorknob with how hard he turns it. He slams and locks it behind him, throwing himself face first onto his bed without even bothering to change his clothes. Jaebum squeezes his eyes shut into the pillow, trying to focus on slowing his heart rate rather than the erection currently throbbing against his stomach. He feels like screaming: the sound of Jinyoung moaning chases itself around his head like a dog with its tail until he feels like he’s going to lose his goddamn mind. Desperately, he flips over onto his back and undoes his belt, throwing it to the floor with a  _snap_ and roughly shoving his dress pants and boxer briefs down his thighs. He hisses through his teeth as he drags a thumb through the wetness at the tip of his dick, spreading it down along the length. One hand gripping the headboard behind him, he grips himself with the other and jerks himself off roughly, like it’s a punishment; he purposefully slams his head back into the hardwood of the headboard like it’ll knock the image of Jinyoung’s wet mouth loose from where it’s lodged itself in the forefront of his brain. He gasps, hips bucking up into his hand and then he comes suddenly and violently, his own gasps and sighs akin to Jackson’s while Jinyoung was sucking him off. He lets go of his dick immediately, pushing the heels of both hands into his eyes as come dries on the bottom of his shirt and stomach. Misery suddenly overwhelms him like a tidal wave, and he furiously yanks off his shirt and dress pants to throw them in the farthest corner of his closet. He digs his towel out of his duffel bag and cleans off his stomach before throwing it down, too, and angrily climbs back into bed.

He stares at the ceiling for hours on end, wishing desperately his life wasn’t his own.

_________________________________

 

He doesn't necessarily mean to avoid Jinyoung, but he manages to have just missed him any time he shows up to somewhere they both have business being. They only have one class together, and Jinyoung misses the lecture the day after Jaebum slept on the couch. Which is, as far as Jaebum is concerned, understandable: he's skipped a class or two for less. After a few days, though, Jaebum starts to wonder if Jinyoung is avoiding  _him_.

"Hey," Yugyeom says suddenly, startling Jaebum out of his thoughts. Yugyeom pulls at the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from underneath Jaebum's textbook, shoving impatiently at Jaebum's wrist when it gets stuck. "What is this?" he asks, yanking once, twice, until the square piece of paper comes loose and he can look at it.

Jaebum just sighs, eyes looking at Yugyeom's face rather than the expensive, black, matte invitation in his hand. He had picked it up on his way to meet Yugyeom at the library and after looking at it, tried to hide it as best he could so that Yugyeom wouldn’t ask any questions. They’ve been in the library for hours, though, trying to study, so Jaebum isn’t really surprised that Yugyeom managed to find a distraction. It’s the one that Jaebum most wanted to avoid (except maybe talking about Jinyoung in any capacity, but Yugyeom doesn’t need to know that) but in his heart of hearts he knows Yugyeom would have found out anyway. Better that he finds out in the library where he can’t cause a scene.

“What is this?” Yugyeom asks again, eyes scanning the ornate gold lettering on the front of it. Jaebum doesn’t answer—Yugyeom’ll figure it out for himself once he finishes reading it. After a few more moments of silence, Yugyeom’s eyes go impossibly wide. His head snaps up, eyes finding Jaebum’s. “Is this—“

“Yes.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Yugyeom shouts, on the verge of making a scene anyway, and Jaebum immediately lunges across the table to punch him in the arm. There’s not a ton of people in their section of the library, but the few students in their vicinity look over at them in annoyance.

“Shut up!” Jaebum hisses, leaning back in his chair while Yugyeom quietly (albeit excitedly) bounces in his own across from him.

“Are you going to go?”

Jaebum sighs. “I don’t know. Should I?”

The look Yugyeom gives him could start a small fire. “Yes. It’s fashion week. In Paris. Do you know how big of a deal that is?”

He’s been to fashion week before—in Paris, London, and New York; his parents were very much into the fashion scene before they lost all their money, and Jaebum was dragged to any major fashion event his parents could buy their way into. They eventually had been to so many that they just started getting invited, all expenses paid. So, yes, he understands how big of a deal it is. But he’d never been invited to  _walk_ in one before. “I suppose.”

“You  _suppose?”_ Yugyeom drops the invitation on the wood tabletop with a noise of disgust. “JB, this a  _huge_  deal. You have to go.”

Jaebum prickles a little at the nickname but doesn’t mention it. When he first met Yugyeom and Youngjae, he specifically requested that they don’t call him JB, as it was a common moniker that Jinyoung used when he was being facetious, so it gives him a not-so-great feeling when he hears it. But sometimes Yugyeom does it without noticing, so Jaebum tries to let it slide. “We have exams soon. I don’t think I can go to that and still do well on them.”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes at him so hard they’re going to get stuck in the back of his head. “First of all, we all know you’re one of the smartest people here. Secondly, fashion week is next week and exams aren’t for another three. So nice try.”

Jaebum just shrugs his shoulders. “We’ll see.”

Standing up, Yugyeom gathers all his books and shoves them back into his backpack. “We’ll see, my ass, Im Jaebum. I know you, and I know that as soon as you get back to your dorm, you’re going to email her and let her know you’ll be there.”

He can’t help it—he laughs, because Yugyeom does, in fact, know him well. “You’re right. I’ll be there.”

He gets a few steps away before he turns around, one hand on his backpack strap, looking for all the world like an overgrown third grader with the way he’s got one hip cocked out and sporting a floral leather jacket like it’s his job. “How was dinner with Jinyoung and his parents, by the way? I forgot to ask.”

Jaebum’s heart immediately trips over itself and begins to beat in overtime. “It was fine,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t give anything away.

Yugyeom’s eyes narrow a fraction, but Jaebum catches it. He starts to sweat a little. “Where did you go after?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely confused. He didn’t plan on staying the night at Jinyoung’s apartment, but he also didn’t mention anything else to Yugyeom or Youngjae about having any other plans for that night.

Yugyeom studies him for a moment in a way that makes him incredibly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t look away because he knows Yugyeom will catch it. “Oh, Youngjae and I just went by your dorm last night to see how it went, but you weren’t there, and none of the other people on your floor had seen you come home at all, so we were just wondering where you went.”

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ He’s caught, and he knows it. Yugyeom is looking at him, eyes knowing, just  _challenging_ Jaebum to make something up or try to lie his way out of it. Sometimes he really hates having such intuitive friends. He tries to deflect by saying, “I was out. What were you guys doing at my dorm so late?”

Yugyeom sees right through this attempt. “We wanted to see how the dinner went. Where’d you go?”

His brain whirrs at a million miles an hour to try and think of an excuse, or a believable lie, but he comes up with nothing. Lamely, he says, “I was out. Downtown.”

Yugyeom scoffs and turns to leave. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Yes. Yes he is.

 

Fashion Week in Paris is, for a lack of a better description, a complete and utter mess.

It starts off incredible—the plane ride is fantastic. Getting through the airport was a breeze, and the roughly 11 hour plane ride is spent in the lap of luxury. Mostly private seating, his seat reclining all the way to a bed so that he can actually get some sleep. The whole thing was paid for by the lady who invited him, her name so French sounding he can’t even pronounce it. He spends half the plane ride sleeping and half of it gazing out the window to the darkness below, the million glittering lights of the cities underneath them transfixing him into a daze.

Getting into Paris is even more wonderful: they arrive during the late evening, the sun low on the horizon. The city lights are blazing, reflecting off the streets and illuminating the windows of the tiny shops scattered all over the city. The driver takes him to his hotel, a monolith of modern construction with a completely glass front and so many stories that he gets dizzy trying to see the top. Inside, the lobby is all polished black marble, and the similarity to the hotel he’d had dinner at with Jinyoung and his parents only about two weeks ago or so shocks him a little, but he finds that, instead of stirring up something awful, it reminds him quite a bit of home. The theme extends all the way up into his penthouse suite at the very top of the hotel, and when he throws open the curtains to reveal the floor to ceiling glass doors he sees they lead to a small balcony. He’s so high up when he steps onto it that he gets vertigo and goes back inside.

It’s all so beautiful—the hotel, the city, the lights; the romance of being someone foreign in an equally foreign place all by himself, but even as he sees things that reminds him of home, the wind that whips down and through the buildings to blow back his coat feels like ice. It’s remote and a little distant, so he finds himself wishing he had a body to go back to in his hotel room. Whether that body resembles Park Jinyoung or not is still up for discussion, and he won’t think about it too much.

He’s thankful when fashion week actually starts. Fashion Week for him is more like Fashion Two Days—he told them all that he couldn’t stay the entire week, as he had exams coming up soon and didn’t want to miss too much class or the opportunity to study as much as possible. They’re incredibly accommodating—they tell him he’ll only be sharing a dressing room with one other person, another Korean, which interests him, and that he’ll be the first model to walk in the shows. After he attends the after party, he’s free to go back to his hotel room and leave the next day.

It’s a flurry of activity from the moment he shows up. As soon as the door opens to the backstage area, assistants are grabbing at him, taking his coat and bag and leading him away to one of the dressing rooms to get him situated. People are running around like crazy, speaking a million different languages at one time into tiny headsets so fast it makes his head spin. The lights are bright, the room loud—it’s a wonderful change from the utter loneliness he’d come with and the absolute insanity is a welcome distraction. The assistant hanging off his arm right now is chatting quickly to someone on her headset in French, but when she opens the door to his dressing room she places her hand over the microphone part and speaks to him in a heavily accented English that he almost doesn’t understand.

“Here’s your dressing room, please make yourself comfortable. The other model will be here soon. If you would like something to eat, just let one of the assistants know.” He thanks her quietly and she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

He doesn’t feel much like eating, so he lays down on the couch against the farthest wall and closes his eyes, listening to the muffled madness outside the door and trying to keep his head on straight. He didn’t think he was going to miss being at home this much, but last time he did something like this, he had Yugyeom and Youngjae with him. Jaebum feels irritation spike in his chest at being so emotional, and the loneliness he’s feeling translates itself into something he’s more comfortable with—anger. He suddenly and viciously hopes the other model doesn’t show up so that he can just stay in this room by himself until it’s time for him to go on the runway.

This doesn’t last long, as the door is suddenly opening to another assistant dragging in someone behind her. She’s also speaking in a rapid fire French, so quickly that Jinyoung looks hopefully lost as she leaves him in the open doorway.

Jinyoung.

Jaebum positively leaps off the couch to stand, mouth falling open in a look of surprise so genuine that Jinyoung actually starts laughing at him. “Hi, Jaebum.”

Jaebum’s brain starts working a million miles an hour. Jinyoung’s here? He’s the other model? He’s at Fashion Week? They’re sharing a dressing room? Where has he been the last 2 weeks? Why was he avoiding Jaebum? He wants to ask all these questions and more, but the only thing that comes out is, “what are you doing here?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, and he flinches internally when he sees Jinyoung’s brows furrow. “They invited me.” He sounds wounded and it just grates on his nerves—how dare he act hurt when Jinyoung’s been avoiding him for two weeks? After Jaebum basically babied him when he got too drunk to get home on his own? He feels a hot anger flush his cheeks red, and he sits back down heavily on the couch.

“Didn’t they invite you, too?” Jinyoung says, still standing in the doorway like he’s unsure. Whereas the noise and the commotion was a welcome distraction when he first got here, now that his temper’s been ignited the activity feels like way too much.

“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. “Can you shut the door please?”

Quietly, Jinyoung steps further into the room and shuts the door. He sits down in one of the chairs in front of the mirror, looking at Jaebum in the reflection. It’s quiet for a few minutes, Jaebum trying to ignore the fact that Jinyoung looks like he’s going to say something.

“Are you alright?” Jinyoung asks. “You seem upset.”

“Do you—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before a team of stylists and wardrobe people come in, bringing all the noise and commotion with them. Jinyoung looks away and then the two of them are being swallowed up by multiple people at once, being pinched and prodded here and there, measuring tape winding around their arms and legs and chests. Most of the stylists are speaking French or English, but the staff had the good sense to send a translator with them, so she stands off to the side translating every so often when either of them send her a helpless look. Jaebum’s English is good, but when a stylist gets half a speech out of her mouth in under thirty seconds, he’s grateful for their translator. Jinyoung has a conversation with her, and Jaebum just watches them in the mirror as one of the male stylists works on his hair. The wardrobe people have gone already, their duties done for now, so the room is quieter with only the few stylists and their translator. The two of them are talking about some drama that they’ve both seen, laughing at some of the scenes they thought were silly. Jaebum can’t help but notice that Jinyoung’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, and he suddenly gets the urge to hit him. He looks away and focuses on the stylist in the mirror, who looks frustrated with his hair.

Finally, the stylist just gives up, and he thinks of the stylist who gave up on Yugyeom in much a similar fashion. “Luckily for you,” he says, tapping Jaebum lightly on the top of the head with a small black comb, “you’re unbelievably handsome, so you can get away with this messy hair thing. Just try not to touch it too much.”

The stylist gathers up his assistants and they leave as well, taking their translator with them. When the door shuts and it’s quiet again, Jaebum finds Jinyoung’s looking at him in the mirror. He looks down, absentmindedly playing with his phone and avoiding looking back up.

“Are you upset?” Jinyoung finally asks, and Jaebum feels his nerves about to snap.

“About what?”

Jinyoung just sighs heavily, which makes Jaebum look back up at him. “About what happened at my house. With Jackson.”

Jaebum’s entire body goes ice cold, and he can only look at Jinyoung in the mirror with an impending sense of horror creeping up his throat. “What do you mean?” is not what he wanted to ask, but that’s all he can come up with.

Jinyoung comes over to sit down in other chair, still not looking at Jaebum directly. “Jackson told me what happened. I know what you walked in on.”

He feels sick. “And?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Jaebum knows, logically, that Jinyoung doesn’t know that, but he doesn’t care. It wasn’t the right thing to say, and his anger flares. Offhandedly, Jaebum just looks back down at his phone. “Why are you sorry? I don’t care.”

The angry snap of his words fall on the room like a cracked whip and it falls into an uncomfortable silence. Jaebum doesn’t look at Jinyoung, but knows Jinyoung is watching him in in the mirror.

_(It stays very quiet for several moments. Jinyoung doesn't know what to say, he doesn’t know what he did wrong, why his apology was met with such hostility. He doesn’t understand why Jaebum is so angry at him—Jinyoung didn’t even know that Jaebum had walked in on him going down on Jackson until days later, when he and Jackson were in the middle of an argument and Jackson tried to use it against him, which just ended in more confusion._

_He doesn’t understand, and he thought they were on their way to actually being_ friends _, not even just acquaintances, but actual friends, and Jinyoung can’t tamp down the hurt that he tries to swallow in the face of Jaebum’s sudden coldness._

_“Stop looking at me,” Jaebum says, the ice in his words like pin pricks in his skin._

_Jinyoung grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his own phone so hard his knuckles pale. “Why are you mad, all of the sudden?”_

_“I’m not mad,” Jaebum says flippantly, looking at Jinyoung briefly in the mirror before looking back down. “I just don’t care.”_

_Something inside Jinyoung splinters and he feels his gentleness fracture like broken glass. “Bullshit. You’re a terrible liar. I know you’re mad about something, and being a child about it isn’t going to get you anywhere.”_

_Jaebum’s eyes find his in the mirror, and they’re absolutely ablaze with anger. “You’re going to call_ me _a child?_ Me, _Jinyoung? You can’t even handle your liquor. I had to carry you into your house.”_

_“Is that was this is about? Because you had to take me home? Or is this about some deeper issue that you walked in on me blowing Jackson and you don’t know how you feel about it?”_

_He didn’t really mean to say it, but the anger spoke for him. Suddenly Jaebum is exploding out of his chair, phone clattering to the ground and Jinyoung is getting hauled up out of his chair by the front of his shirt. In a few steps Jaebum has him backed into the wall, hand fisted in the material of his shirt so tightly Jinyoung is pretty sure he felt it rip. He squeezes his eyes shut, ready for the punch he’s sure Jaebum is going to throw—he’s no stranger to Jaebum’s violent outbursts; growing up there were plenty of times they hit or tripped each other on purpose when they were angry. But none comes, and Jinyoung opens his eyes. Jaebum’s just staring at him, rage rolling off him in waves, his chest brushing up against Jinyoung’s as he breathes heavily. He becomes acutely aware of the fact that, somewhere upon shoving Jinyoung into the wall, he also managed to get a slim thigh against his crotch, wedging his legs apart so that he’s got no real avenue of escape that would be remotely comfortable. Jinyoung is also acutely aware that he’s starting to get turned on, and now is not the time nor place._

_“Let me go.”_

_“Don’t act like you know anything about me, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says in response, a little breathless. The words are spoken low, full of malice but backed up by something else, something Jinyoung doesn’t investigate too closely._

_“Okay, I won’t,” he says angrily, and lifts his arms up to push at Jaebum’s shoulders. But Jaebum is strong, with one hand still fisted in his shirt and the other planted firmly on the wall by Jinyoung’s face. He’s trapped, for lack of a better word, and he swallows nervously, watching as Jaebum’s eyes momentarily leave his face to follow the action. All of a sudden the space between them feels nonexistent—their faces are inches apart; Jaebum’s breath ghosting across Jinyoung’s mouth in a way that makes him feel lightheaded, their chests brushing together through their ridiculous shirts as they breathe. He’s not sure when it stopped being about Jaebum being angry, but he’s positive the mood has shifted somehow._

_“Please,” Jinyoung whispers, but now he’s not sure what he’s asking for._

_Jaebum hesitates, licking his lips absentmindedly before he closes his eyes and savagely pushes himself away from Jinyoung. He turns and slams his way into the bathroom without another word._

_Without Jaebum holding him up, his knees turn to water and he slides down to the floor. He isn’t sure what just happened, and he doesn’t know if he wants it to happen again.)_

The sound of the bathroom door slamming brings him back to himself a bit, and he drops to his knees on the tile with his hands pulling savagely at his hair. They’d been doing so well, but even after all this time, Jinyoung knows exactly what to say to piss him off, and the anger is something that Jaebum always had to rely on. The room beyond is silent for a while, but it doesn’t last long. After a few minutes an assistant is knocking on the bathroom door and telling Jaebum that it’s time for them to go.

When he comes out of the bathroom, the room is mercifully empty of Jinyoung. The assistant hurries him out the door and back into the backstage area, where it’s more hectic than before: people are running everywhere, voices frantically shouting over each other and over the noise of the crowd on the other side of the stage. Jaebum tries to locate Jinyoung in the mass of bodies, but doesn’t see him and gives up.

After the initial confusion, the walking starts with a bang. Jaebum is second, the lights so blinding and the music so deafening that he can’t even process it all. There’s a lot of cheering and clapping and noise; it all bleeds together so much in the aftermath of his fight with Jinyoung that when it’s all over, he can’t recall a single significant detail. When he’s done walking, they seat him backstage to wait for everything else to be finished before they all get sent off to the after party in the lobby of his hotel. At one point in the chaos he sees Jinyoung for a split second, looking the definition of perfection: they really did him up for this, decked from head to toe in black jeans and an intentionally ripped black sweater with a bare, unmarked shoulder exposed and so tantalizing under the lights he feels like screaming. Then he’s gone, and Jaebum is closing his eyes and trying to lose himself in the noise.

It takes a few hours, but then finally the crowd has gone, the stylists are packing up, and they’re all loading into cars and cabs to get back to the hotel for the after party. This, too, is a flurry of activity, so much happening all at once that he feels like he went from the stages to the elegantly decorated ballroom of the gorgeous hotel in the span of a few seconds. Everyone there managed to change their outfits at some point or another—silver dresses sheath the bodies of the female models, heels as black as the marble floors clicking as they dance or go from group to group. Jaebum managed to sneak away to his hotel room after arriving to change into a button down and a suit jacket, but that’s as fancy as he was willing to get.

It’s delightfully quieter here, with club music playing but at a volume that allows people to have conversations without screaming at each other. He drifts from place to place for a while, talking to a lot of people he doesn’t know while downing drink after drink. His vision is unsteady by the time he finally finds Jinyoung in the throng of people, a brightly colored drink half empty in one hand and the other planted firmly on the lower back of a male model he’s never even seen before. From where he’s standing he can how Jinyoung is standing way too close to just be friendly, leaning in to talk directly into the other boy’s ear even though the music isn’t very loud. The male model laughs, leaning back to look at Jinyoung in a way that Jaebum recognizes since he’s looked at plenty of other people that way—with desire. But it seems hollow, even from where he’s standing, and something in Jaebum has him setting down his drink heavily before walking up to the two of them as steady as possible.

“—staying here,” Jinyoung is saying to the model, and neither of them notice him at first.

“Right now?” the model asks, and Jaebum feels his stomach turn violently as he remembers a similar scenario, but with Jackson instead of some random fucking model Jinyoung probably didn’t even ask a name from.

“If you’d like,” he says, and looks up from under his eyelashes in a way that feels like a punch directly to the stomach even though it’s not directed at him, and Jaebum notices the model basically melt under it. The look is so devilish and innocent all at once, the definition of filthy, and then Jaebum is stepping closer.

“Jinyoung, there you are!” he says loudly, startling them both and earning him a dirty look from the model for interrupting.

Jinyoung shoots him an equally dirty look, but doesn’t say anything to him. He looks back at the model with a question in his dark eyes. The model opens his mouth to say something, a large hand on Jinyoung’s small shoulder, but Jaebum cuts in again, “do you think Jackson would approve of this, Jinyoung?”

At the mention of someone else and the obvious hostility between the two of them, the model knows trouble when he sees it and politely pats Jinyoung’s shoulder before departing immediately. Jinyoung looks after him forlornly for a moment before spinning angrily on Jaebum. “Are you serious?”

Jaebum just holds up his hands, palms out, in defense. He closes his eyes but feels unsteady on his feet so he opens them again, looking at the angry scowl on Jinyoung’s face. “I’m just trying to look out for you. Jackson probably wouldn’t be pleased.”

“That’s absolutely none of your business,” Jinyoung spits.

“What, I can’t care about Jackson?”

Jinyoung must be drunk, because his face turns even more red than it already was and he steps forward a little unsteadily. “You don’t give a  _shit_ about Jackson!”

He says it loudly, more-so than he probably intended, and people turn around near them to watch. Still sober enough to have the good sense not to cause a scene in the middle of an after party for something that they were invited to for free, Jaebum grabs onto Jinyoung’s arm lightly. Jinyoung immediately pushes him back a little, and Jaebum lets go as he stumbles before catching himself. “Don’t touch me,” Jinyoung hisses, and now people are definitely staring. “Don’t act like you actually care about Jackson. You just don’t want to watch me hook up with someone else.”

People around them are starting to whisper, so Jaebum grabs onto Jinyoung again and starts to pull him toward a darker corner with no people before he has time to protest. Jinyoung argues loudly, but people stop paying attention when they realize the fight is moving somewhere private. The corner Jaebum situates Jinyoung in is significantly darker than the rest of the room,  offering them a small amount of privacy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jinyoung says, pushing Jaebum’s arm against his chest where he still has Jinyoung’s wrist in his hand. He shakes him off, standing up straight and defiantly looking Jaebum in the eyes. “Why are you being like this?”

“Why are  _you_ being like this?” Jaebum shoots back, and somewhere in his mind he realizes that drunkenly arguing with Jinyoung so soon after their blow-up earlier probably isn’t the best idea.

“You’re not my father, Jaebum, and I know you don’t give a shit about Jackson, so why bother?”

“I just don’t want you to make a fool of yourself here, with how drunk you get who knows what could happen?”

Jinyoung goes very still. Jaebum doesn’t see it coming until Jinyoung’s hand is already cracking across his face, stinging viciously and turning his head sharply to the side. Eyes blazing, Jaebum pushes Jinyoung back against the wall and cages him in with both hands planted firmly on the wall on either side of his head. But Jinyoung doesn’t look intimidated, he just looks angry and that somehow makes it worse. They’ve somehow ended up in the exact same position as they were a few hours ago, but with the tables mostly turned—there’s a cruel tint to the look in Jinyoung’s eyes, one that Jaebum is unfamiliar with, and it makes his anger die out and fade into uncertainty.

“I get it.” Jinyoung says, and his whole posture has changed: he’s straightened up, curving his back a little so that their faces are a little closer together, bodies inches apart. The almost inscrutable upturned corner of his mouth just screams danger and, for the first time in their lives, Jaebum is afraid of  _him._

“Get what?”

“Did watching me suck off Jackson turn you on?”

The words are so vulgar he feels like he’s been slapped again. Seeing the surprise and hesitation in his face, Jinyoung takes it as a victory and keeps going. “Are you unsure now, Jaebum? Did it make you question how you feel?”

“Shut up,” Jaebum says, the fear curdling in his stomach and sending hot bursts of anger up into his chest, constricting it. His hands curl into fists on the wall, knuckles white.

But Jinyoung goes on, mouth cruel. “I know you’ve dated boys before, but did you ever do anything with them? Did you ever blow any of them?”

_“Shut up,”_ Jaebum says between his teeth, body practically vibrating, but Jinyoung just smiles at him, body bending toward him.

“Did watching me blow Jackson make you want it for yourself?”

The words hit home, and it feels like Jinyoung drove a screwdriver directly into his chest. “Shut up, if you say one more thing, Jinyoung, I swear to God—“

“What?” Jinyoung cuts him off doggedly, “are you gonna hit me?”

“Maybe, if you don’t shut your  _fucking_ mouth.”

Then Jinyoung’s hips are pressing into his, their bodies flush together all of a sudden sending shock waves through every point where they’re touching when Jinyoung just leans forward and whispers, “so do it, then.”

Instead, Jaebum is grabbing Jinyoung roughly by the chin with one hand and slamming their mouths together. Their teeth click together with the force of it, a jumbled car accident of teeth and lips and tongues. Jinyoung immediately gets both his hands into Jaebum’s hair and is tugging on it, his mouth opening greedily beneath Jaebum’s. He gets his tongue into Jinyoung’s mouth, taking the lead, and Jinyoung just whimpers into his mouth and pushes up against him harder. It drives Jaebum insane, his hand letting go of Jinyoung’s face to push him closer by the small of his back, guiding Jinyoung’s back to the wall and pressing him into it. His mind feels like its full of confetti, senseless thoughts fluttering back and forth uselessly as he trails his mouth down Jinyoung’s neck, biting and licking at the skin in ways that have Jinyoung whining and grinding his hips into Jaebum’s. He gets the material of Jinyoung’s sweater pulled away from the shoulder that looked so tempting before and he falls greedily on it, biting and marking it with an ownership he knows he doesn’t have. Above him Jinyoung spouts a litany of swears and pleas like he’s praying, and then Jaebum is back to kissing his mouth to shut him up. Their hands are everywhere, Jinyoung pulling the tie at Jaebum’s throat impatiently like he’s trying to pull him closer or choke him, or maybe both. It’s angry, with both of them grabbing and biting and scratching at each other like they’re trying to tear each other apart, but it still doesn’t feel like enough, and then Jinyoung is pushing him backward and dragging him toward a coat room, their mouths never leaving each others.

They don’t even bother flipping on the light, and the coat room isn’t any bigger than a bathroom but there’s plenty of space on the wall for Jaebum to haul Jinyoung up and press him back into it while his legs wrap around his waist.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Jaebum pants into Jinyoung’s mouth as he whimpers and whines, hands eagerly pushing Jaebum’s suit jacket off his shoulders. It finally drops to the floor behind them and then Jinyoung is pulling at the tie, loosening it and then using it to pull Jaebum to him. Their mouths slam together again, all teeth and heat and whispered begging. The buttons on Jaebum’s shirt prove to be a challenge for Jinyoung, so Jaebum puts him back on the floor to do it for him but before he’s even got the shirt completely off Jinyoung’s dropping to his knees and undoing his belt. Even intoxicated his fingers work quickly, deftly undoing the buckle and pulling it quickly through the loops.

“Ah, fuck, what are you doing?” Jaebum asks breathlessly, heart rate spiking wildly as he feels Jinyoung’s fingers popping the button on his pants and yanking them gracelessly to halfway down his thighs. The only light in the room is the strip of it shining in from underneath the door, so it’s barely enough to make out the look on Jinyoung’s face as he’s hooking his fingers into Jaebum’s underwear and pulling.

Jaebum whimpers helplessly and leans back against the wall on his elbows as Jinyoung wraps his fingers around his dick and pulls. It’s gentle, a little sloppy, and he’s been achingly hard for so long that he’s about to start  _begging_ when Jinyoung quickly and expertly runs his tongue along the underside of his dick. His eyes fall shut as Jinyoung’s mouth closes around the tip, the sudden wet heat almost too much for him. Jaebum’s chest rises and falls in sharp pants as Jinyoung starts to move, his head bobbing as he works Jaebum’s cock in his mouth with one hand massaging circles into the dip of his hip. Jaebum reaches a hand down and grabs a fistful of Jinyoung’s hair, which makes Jinyoung whimper quietly; the sound muffled around his own dick in Jinyoung’s mouth makes him feel like he’s going to die, and he drops his head back into the wall with a dull  _thud_. Jinyoung just keeps going, making noises and working his tongue all the finesse of a fucking professional until finally Jaebum feels the warm pooling in his gut that means he’s going to come. He tugs on Jinyoung’s hair a little, barely gasping out a warning before his entire body tightens while pleasure explodes in his groin. He shudders, panting and swearing while Jinyoung just works him through it, finally pulling off with a wet pop so obscene Jaebum wants to fuck him into the floor. Jinyoung wipes his mouth, standing up before Jaebum is grabbing him by the front of the sweater and pulling him forward to kiss again. He doesn’t even care that he cant taste himself in Jinyoung’s mouth, and when his hand slides down to the waistband of Jinyoung’s jeans, he finds the button already open and Jinyoung’s hand shoved down the front of them. Jaebum belatedly realizes he’s been getting himself off while sucking Jaebum’s dick, and the thought sends hot pinpricks of pleasure back through him, dick twitching. Biting Jinyoung’s lower lip, he knocks his hand away and takes over, jerking Jinyoung off slow and languidly. Jinyoung just thrusts into his hand, whimpers and curses tumbling over each other out of his mouth. Jaebum’s other hand curls around JInyoung’s shoulders and pulls on the hair at the base of his neck, exposing his throat, and Jaebum lays kisses and bites on the unmarked skin while Jinyoung seizes and then is shuddering through his release.

Jaebum pulls his hand from Jinyoung’s pants, carelessly licking his fingers clean as Jinyoung just watches in disbelief, glazed over eyes huge in the low light. They both don’t speak as they rearrange themselves and get as presentable as possible, but the silence isnt as awkward as Jaebum was expecting. Jinyoung even fixes his tie for him before they open the door. They manage to slip mostly unnoticed along the walls and out the ballroom door, walking together toward the elevators to go up to their rooms.

“What floor are you on?” Jaebum asks, casting a glance at an exhausted looking Jinyoung over his shoulder.

“18th. You?”

“19th.”

Jaebum pushes the buttons for their respective floors, and then the silence that lapses is stifled and uncomfortable. He’s not sure what the proper recourse here is, because he isn’t sure what just happened—one second they were arguing, and then the next they were frantically getting each other off in a coat closet like horny teenagers. Jinyoung seems vaguely upset, avoiding eye contact with him, but their shoulders brush where they’re standing against the back wall of the elevator. Awkwardly, Jaebum clears his throat. “Do you…do you want to come stay in my room?”

The elevator keeps moving up, a soft  _ding, ding, ding_ marking the passing of the floors. He sneaks a look at Jinyoung, who’s staring ahead intently with a  _very_ noticeable blush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks a bright pink.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He’s a little hurt but tries to play it off. “Any worse of an idea than getting each other off in a dark coat closet at a party?”

Jinyoung just closes his eyes. Jaebum notices then the shadows underneath Jinyoung’s eyes like bruises pressed into the skin there; he looks sad, so sad, and the utter hopelessness make Jaebum’s heart feel like it’s breaking. The doors open suddenly, framing the ornate, empty hallway in the eerie silence of hotels at night. Jinyoung hesitates for a moment, the doors hanging open but nobody moves. A small spark of hope in Jaebum’s chest ignites that dies soon after when Jinyoung catches the elevator door where it started to close. He doesn’t look back as he says, “I’m sorry, it’s not a good idea, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and then his apologies are cut off as he bolts down the hallway, the elevator doors shutting Jaebum up into a lonely silence.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s on the phone with Youngjae before he even makes it inside his hotel room all the way.

Jaebum’s shaking all over the place; so hard that he almost dropped his cellphone several times before making it into the room and letting the door fall shut quietly behind him. He kicks off his shoes, replaying the events in what he’s sure is alarming detail (Youngjae doesn’t necessarily need to hear the details of the way that Jinyoung sucks dick like he was made for it) but he doesn’t want to leave anything out because he needs a smart person’s honest opinion.

When he finishes, flopped carelessly onto the bed on top of the blankets still fully dressed, Youngjae says, “I think you’re being a little ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Ridiculous how? The person I’ve hated for years and years just got me off in a broom closet—“

“Coat closet.”

“Right, okay, a coat closet. We were both drunk, and then I invited him to stay the night with me, and he said no, Youngjae. But he looked so sad when he said it.”

Youngjae hesitates like he’s going to say something but changes his mind. “I—“

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing. But you should—“

_“Say. It.”_ Jaebum doesn’t like being anything but kind and gentle with Youngjae, but there’s a wild and unbridled desperation in him that he doesn’t understand. It makes him feel crazy.

“I think you should reevaluate how you feel and then talk to him about it. You might find you both have more in common than you realize.”

Then he hangs up.

_________________________________

 

The first time he sees Jinyoung and Jackson in the courtyard of the student center after the incident, Jinyoung curled up against Jackson’s side with his head on his chest and showing him something on his cellphone, Jaebum goes back to his dorm and throws up. The second time he sees them, Jackson with one hand on the small of Jinyoung’s back and guiding him like a girlfriend, Jaebum goes back to his dorm and punches the mirror hanging over his desk so hard it shatters completely and he has to go the campus clinic to get it bandaged. Yugyeom asks him over and over why he looks his cat just died, so that’s the excuse he uses. Yugyeom gets upset and cries the first time Jaebum yells at him about it, since Yugyeom was basically obsessed with Nora. Jaebum feels bad but he also knows that telling Yugyeom Nora died is easier than telling him he’s got some feelings about Park Jinyoung he needs to work out.

The third time he sees Jinyoung and Jackson together after the incident, their mouths pressed together so firmly he’s not sure where one ends and the other begins, he asks a girl in his and Jinyoung’s shared class to go to a party with him. She’s cute enough: she’s small, delicate, impeccably dressed in a way that Jaebum values in a person with money. He doesn’t actually know her at all, and doesn’t really care about her in any capacity, but he hopes that spending time with her will get his mind off of Jinyoung so that he can pretend he doesn’t care for a little bit longer. The girl, named Jimin, gladly accepts his invitation to the party and immediately runs off to tell her friends about it. This irks him in that it feels like he just asked out a high school girl, but then he remembers why he’s really doing this and he gets over it. He misses entirely the way Jinyoung shoots daggers at him the rest of the class period.

The party, hosted by some rich kid Jaebum knows just by knowing everyone else, is in one of the bigger off-campus apartments. Jaebum doesn’t know either of the kids throwing it, but he knows they’re roommates—Eric and Kevin. That’s the extent of his knowledge of them, but Jimin seems to know a lot more. When he picks her up the Friday night of the party, he asks her questions about them and her social life to keep the line of questioning away from him.

She looks pretty, which Jaebum tells her immediately (if not a little mechanically, as well), which sends her into a flurry of gushing thank yous and nervous giggling. It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would, and he hopes that it’s a sign he’ll have a decent night. Exams are less than a week away, with break starting soon after, so everyone’s pretty much given up on studying at this point and partying to keep the stress at bay.

It’s loud when they get there—music is blaring from somewhere in the living room, which has been cleared of furniture to form a sort of makeshift dancefloor. There’s bodies packed into the small space already, half-empty drinks in everyone’s hand and shouted conversation happening in every corner of the room. As Jimin scampers off to find  them some drinks, he suddenly and terribly wishes that he wasn’t here.

She comes back a few minutes later with two drinks—she tells him she did two shots in the kitchen with the girls from her psych class, but this disinterests him and he just nods politely. She babbles at him for a while, periodically taking huge drinks of whatever she found in the kitchen while he scans the crowed looking for a particular face; he tries to tell himself he’s looking for Yugyeom but he knows what he’s really doing. He just hopes that Jinyoung isn’t actually here.

Suddenly, Jimin taps on his arm. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No,” Jaebum shouts, leaning closer to her, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to dance.”

“Oh,” he says, and his lack of enthusiasm visibly annoys her but he’s too absorbed in his own head to notice. He sets his drink down on a random endtable and takes her hand. “Sure.”

She leads him to the edge of the living room, some Korean pop song playing he’s heard on the radio a thousand times but can’t name. Jimin is loving it, and she starts to dance—pretty well, he’s distantly impressed, but he mostly just stands there while she dances for him.

“C’mon, Jaebum,” she says, locking her hands around the back of his neck, “dance.”

He tries. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the beat of the music, finding a rhythm that matches the one Jimin is on until they’re dancing together, hips sliding together and apart, her body pushed up against his like she can’t stand to be even a few inches a way. He tries to think of the way her small chest feels pressed against his own and that he likes it, but with his eyes closed every sway of her hips that sweeps against his just feels like Jinyoung. He feels like he’s going to die.

Abruptly, she lets go. “What’s your deal?”

He blinks owlishly at her, like hearing her speak had woken him up. “Sorry, say that again?”

Her face is red like she’s embarrassed. “I asked what your deal is. Are you not into me?”

Jaebum tries to lie and fails. “It’s not that.”

“Who are you looking for?”

This startles him. He looks at her face, pretty and flushed with the combined warmth of alcohol and body heat. She’s so pretty; so, so pretty. But she isn’t Jaebum’s type of pretty. “What do you mean?”

She sighs in annoyance, already scanning the crowd for an exit. “You’ve been looking for someone since we’ve been here. I’ve been talking to you for two minutes before I realized you weren’t paying attentipn, and even when you actually looked at me, you were really looking at someone else. Who is it?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, but the look in her eyes is so fierce, so defiant. It reminds him of someone. “Jinyoung.”

All she says is “I knew it” before she’s stalking away, finding a girlfriend of hers and taking her by the arm.

And then he’s alone.

He’s never been huge on parties. Not for lack of trying, but in high school when there were parties every weekend, he was usually working until he couldn't stand up anymore to help his parents save money. It wasn't their fault, and he doesn't blame them in any capacity; things happen, he understands, and he's never been angry, but he can't help but feel a little like he missed some important coming-of-age events. Like, for instance, attending an underage house party full of booze, loud music, and probably drugs. Not that any of those things particularly tickled Jaebum's fancy, necessarily, but being at one of those parties and potentially having to run from the police feels like a rite of passage he missed out on. So, he stays a little bit longer, finding a spot on the wall to lean against so that he can watch the rest of the people enjoy themselves.

It's incredibly loud, and Jaebum can't believe no one has called the police on them yet. There's not a whole lot of underage kids here, if any—their school is pretty prestigious, and kids rarely make it in right out of high school. It takes a few swings to finally get in, so most of the kids crammed into the tiny living room slash dance floor are kids Jaebum’s known for years and are his age. The cup of beer in one hand that he's been holding since someone shoved another one into his hand after Jimin left is warm now and tastes like shit to begin with and he really has no intention of getting shitfaced off campus. And especially not when he feels like this. Conversations are shouted over the music but unintelligible from where he's standing, so mostly it looks like people just mouthing words into each others' ears. He takes another sip of warm beer, grimacing immediately, and watches people dancing in the low light. Random black lights in the house illuminates the whites on peoples' bodies to a stark, hospital clean neon. There's a lot of American rap music playing, which is good to grind to, he guesses, judging by the way couples are basically fucking each other on the dance floor. Feeling a little perverted for watching, he moves his eyes away and absentmindedly finishes off his beer in a few swigs.

He can feel a sigh coming on, which means he's getting ready to be a wet blanket and leave. Youngjae didn't want to come, and since Jaebum would never force him, he didn't ask twice. Yugyeom was already drunk somewhere in the house, probably feeling up a girl with his wicked sharp smile or putting everyone to shame with his dance moves. Either way, he ended up alone, and he's not sure standing alone on the wall at a house party was part of the experience he imagines having in high school. He puts his empty cup down on the table next to him and pushes off the wall with his elbows to navigate his way through the crowd when, cutting directly through the rhythmic thump of the music, he hears the drunkest, happiest cheering from the other side of the house. A few people glance over, but are either too drunk to care or are used to it, so the only person left paying attention to it is Jaebum. It goes up again, gleeful and dissolving into giggles, and then Jaebum sees a very drunk and a very unsteady Jinyoung hanging off Jackson's arm.

Even though he’s seen Jinyoung’s face a hundred thousand times, it still feels like a kick in the stomach. He looks so happy, dancing like a fool while Jackson just watches him fondly. The music changes to something a little slower and a little dirtier, and his stomach does something weird at the way Jinyoung grabs Jackson and turns him so that they’re face to face. Jinyoung’s face tilts up toward's Jackson's, and Jaebum thinks maybe the warm beer he chugged on accident isn't sitting very well. Jinyoung cheers again, absolutely oblivious, and Jackson, laughing, puts a finger to Jinyoung's mouth to quiet him down. Jaebum watches with a sinking feeling as Jinyoung kisses the finger Jackson has against his mouth, then he clumsily reaches up to grab Jackson's wrist and move his hand down to his waist. Whatever is playing over the speakers has a good beat, and even an intoxicated Jinyoung knows it, and suddenly the whole room narrows down to the way that Jinyoung closes the gap between their bodies and starts to move. Jackson's face changes entirely; Jaebum can almost see the switch flip from adoring to turned on, his eyelids closing halfway and watching Jinyoung from underneath them. Jackson's hand tightens on the back of his neck, which clearly gives Jinyoung some encouragement to start dancing even dirtier. Since they're standing away from everyone else, it’s just far enough so that it doesn't draw attention but it's still mostly private, but Jaebum has almost a direct line of sight on them. He feels sick while watching but the sinuous line of Jinyoung’s body has him frozen in place. It feels similar to the first time he walked in on them—a sinking feeling starts in his chest but the way Jinyoung moves keeps him rooted to the spot. With a pang, he sees Jinyoung fist a hand in Jackson's bleach blonde hair for support and lean his torso back, hips moving in slow circles against Jackson's to the beat of the song playing. Jaebum feels how Jackson looks—ready to burst. Jinyoung’s jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the wide cut of the neck of his T-shirt underneath exposing a long line of unmarked collar bone, enough to make Jaebum uncomfortable for noticing. He remembers what it was like to have his mouth all over it, biting and marking, but those are gone now. It feels like swallowing glass.

Finally, after what feels like years, the song ends with their foreheads together and their hips moving in sync, hands fisted in various parts of the others’ outfit. Jackson leans in and brushes a kiss against Jinyoung’s cheek, which burns Jaebum somewhere low in his chest. Jinyoung nods, agreeing to whatever Jackson just said, and then Jackson is walking away and leaving him to slowly turn in expertly practiced drunken circles. The song fully fades out, and like he can hear Jaebum’s breathing, Jinyoung meets his eyes from all the way across the room as the player shuffles to the next song.

_Shit,_  Jaebum thinks to himself,  _shit, I'm caught. I have to get out of here._

But before he can make a mad dash for the exit, Jinyoung is beckoning for him and Jaebum feels pulled to him like a magnet. He tries to leave, he really does, but his legs won't go where he tells them, and he ends up shoving through a small throng of people to stand a couple of feet in front of Jinyoung, his heart galloping wildly in his chest. He’s flirted with this type of disaster before and ended up getting burned, but he never learns his lesson.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Jinyoung asks, the words blurry and ran together like he couldn't say them fast enough.

"Same thing as you. Having a good time."

His eyebrow goes up. "Are you? Having a good time, I mean. That girl you came with left with some guy from her calculus class and you’ve been alone the whole time.”

Jesus. Jinyoung knew he was here this entire time.

"I am. I was just about to leave, though. Gotta study."

At this, Jinyoung scoffs, and Jaebum feels his temper flare a little. He prepares a retort, but he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the next song starts up and Junior stands up straight.

_"Hey, playboy...."_

"Ohmygod, I love this song," Jinyoung says excitedly, and before he knows it's happening, Jinyoung has a hold on his wrist and is yanking him forward so that their bodies collide sloppily, and Jaebum has to grab him around the waist with one arm and brace the other on the wall to keep both of them from tripping. He’s been here before, pressing Jinyoung back into a wall, and the feeling of Jinyoung against him for a second time makes him feel like he’s on fire. His breath hitches uncertainly, and Jinyoung takes this as an invitation. He begins to mouth the words, hands on Jaebum’s shoulders and slowly dragging down toward his lower back.

"Wh–what are you doing?" Jaebum mumbles, the question interrupted by the dry clicking in his throat when he swallows. Everything is happening so quickly—a minute ago he was standing alone on the wall getting ready to leave, and now Jinyoung is singing the words to a dirty-sounding EXO song with his hands all over Jaebum’s body. He feels distinctly like he’s in a car with no brakes heading straight for the edge of a cliff but he can’t bring himself to run.

Jinyoung mostly ignores his question, anyway, and takes Jaebum’s lack of resistance as a good sign. His hands glide across Jaebum’s lower back, and he's giving off so much heat that Jaebum can feel it through his thin dress shirt. He can hear Jinyoung singing under his breath, stumbling over the words but looking up at Jaebum from long eyelashes with the most intent expression he's ever seen. Jaebum goes rigid, his hand fisting on the wall and his heart thumping so hard against his ribs that it feels like they’re going to break. He wants to run, and knows he should, since they’ve done this before and it went all to hell and Jinyoung rejected him and also his annoying boyfriend Jackson is here somewhere, but the way Jinyoung is looking at him and the slow rocking of his hips side to side a few inches away from his own keeps him rooted to the spot. Suddenly Jinyoung hands are on his hips, the fingers digging in and grabbing handfuls of the material of Jaebum’s shirt and pulling it free from where it's tucked into his pants.

"Jinyoung, what are you doing?" he asks, trying to sound angry but it only comes out ragged. This is madness, absolute madness. He can’t stop.

Smiling, like he fucking knows, Jinyoung just gets a warm hand up under Jaebum’s shirt and splays it out on his stomach. "Just dancing."

Jaebum’s eyes slip closed like he can't even believe it. Knowing Park Jinyoung is like getting whiplash every single day: they get along, they hate each other. Jinyoung sucks his dick in a coat closet, he rejects him and goes back to Jackson. He ignores Jaebum for weeks, and then tries to dry fuck him at a party. The madness in his own head rises to an incomprehensible shout as he feels Jinyoung’s hand slide down slowly, like he's memorizing the way Jaebum’s stomach feels under his hand. Then, suddenly, Jinyoung’s grabbing onto his waistband, fingers slipping in past his belt, and yanking him the last few inches so that their hips are flush together and Jaebum is done for.

His eyes fly open. Jinyoung’s already looking at him, and he grabs Jinyoung’s wrist with his free hand to still it where it's sliding against the bare skin of his hip. Jaebum trys to say something, like “don’t do this” or “you don’t understand how much this hurts me”; but then Jinyoung’s mouth curls up in a smile and then his hands are both around Jaebum’s neck, his whole body rolling against the length of Jaebum’s.

"Christ," he says through gritted teeth, and he didn't mean to say it; it felt forced out of his body by the pure agony at being so close. But Jinyoung definitely hears it and takes it as encouragement. Leaving one hand cradling the back of Jaebum’s head, Jinyoung expertly maneuvers himself around so that his back is against Jaebum’s chest and then Jinyoung’s dancing becomes downright  _filthy_. Jinyoung grinds his ass back against Jaebum’s crotch like he knows what he’s doing, and something in Jaebum’s chest opens up like a floodgate. He groans low in this throat, the sound traitorous, but Jinyoung just grinds back into Jaebum’s groin, bending at the knee so that he has to slide all the way back up his body. Jaebum’s mind goes pure blindingly white and suddenly he's moving of his own accord: his hand leaves the wall to rest on Jinyoung’s stomach, arm wrapped around his middle and pushing Jinyoung closer to him; the hot pleasure from the way Jinyoung’s body feels pressed up against his spreading through his lower abdomen like spilled liquid. Jinyoung twists again, chest to chest, and Jaebum’s breath comes faster and the repeated brush of their chest sends lightening rocketing through every nerve ending. The hat he was wearing is titlted askew on his head from where Jinyoung was gripping on his hair; Jinyoung reaches up to fix it and then their hips are pressed together again and Jaebum can't believe how hard they both are. Jinyoung is gasping, still trying to look innocent while his fingers play at Jaebum’s belt, like he's daring himself to undo the buckle. They’ve played this game before and Jaebum knows he’s going to lose.

It feels like it goes on for hours, and Jaebum’s head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, completely unaware of anything except the way Jinyoung rolls his slim hips into his own, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Jaebum’s entire body. Jinyoung tips his head back, looking up at Jaebum with a face so blindly desperate it hurts him to look at directly. His pupils are massive, swallowing up the brown of his eyes like it didn't exist. Jaebum feels like he’s falling into the rabbit hole, forever, forever, forever.

"Jinyoung," he begs, unable to stop himself from saying it, "what are you doing?"

And with a disastrous flick of his tongue over his mouth, Jinyoung just smiles lazily at him and rolls his hips into Jaebum’s harder, a little quicker, and he feels himself losing his grip fast. "Jaebum-ah, whatever you want."

And just like that, the song is over and Jinyoung steps back, swaying in place and trying to keep his eyes open like he's going to go to sleep any second. Jaebum feels empty without Jinyoung pressed against him, his stomach hollowed out and his groin heavy with pending release. His back is sweaty, his mouth completely dry so that it hurts a little to swallow. All of a sudden Jackson reappears, and with a knowing grin in Jaebum’s direction pulls Jinyoung to him.

"Did you enjoy learning to dance from my boyfriend?" Jackson asks, and it's so nonchalant that at first Jaebum thinks he's kidding. But, as he looks as Jackson's face, he realizes he's not and Jaebum’s entire body floods with embarrassment and shame. "He's really good."

The words are like a slap, and suddenly JB has never been more awake. He spares a glance at Jinyoung, whose eyes are already on his and looking absolutely destroyed. He feels his face drain of color and without another word he turns and bolts to the door, practically tearing it off the hinges. Cries of protest follow him as he takes off into the crisp night, running so fast he thinks his heart is going to explode. He took the campus shuttle to the off campus housing with Jimin, neither of them wanting to drive, and his dorm is about two miles away. But he can't stop, and so he hurtles through the footpath in the woods at a dead run. The agony erupting in his chest as his lungs burn is indistinguishable from the agony erupting in his chest from allowing Jinyoung to pull him back and forth until it feel like he’s swallowed battery acid. Jaebum runs all the way until he’s pushing open his door so fast he almost tears the doorknob off. Heaving, he drops to his hands and knees on the floor and then, for the first time in years, he’s crying.

The tears come fast and hot, pulling themselves from his body like hooks while he desperately tries to catch his breath at once. He recognizes this feeling for what it is—Youngjae’s felt it, Yugyeom’s felt it, and he’s read it over and over in a thousand different novels. Heartache, so raw he feels scraped and emptied like a jack-o-lantern, but he knows what it is now. All the anger, the fighting, the shit-talking and the fist-fights, the years and years of rivalry and spit curses behind their parents backs’ has been leading to this: this revelation on his dorm room floor at 1 in the morning, back-breaking sobs wracking his body and a terrible loneliness tearing its way through him as he pictures the way Jinyoung always goes back to Jackson. It has come to this, this revelation that feels like it’s going to break him in half: he’s loved Park Jinyoung all along. But Im Jaebum is the king of missed chances.

_________________________________

 

Exams come and go quickly. Jaebum dodges Jinyoung at every possible time,  sitting as far back in the classroom as possible and practically locking himself away in his dorm or hiding in corners of the library no one uses. Sometimes, if he's not quick enough, he'll catch Jinyoung's eyes from where he tries to sink lower in his chair, and the absolute misery that lines Jinyoung's features doesn't help. He sinks lower into the chair until Jinyoung has to give up and turn away.

It continues like this for the duration of exams—Jaebum trying to make himself as invisible as possible and Jinyoung looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. He doesn't quite get where that's coming from, but he's sure as hell not going to ask so just pretends he doesn't exist, instead.

Youngjae notices and gives him an incredible amount of hell for it. The conversation usually goes like this:

"I think you should just talk to him," Youngjae says. Many times.

"No. I can't. Not while he's with Jackson."

Youngjae sighs at this answer every time. "When has that ever stopped you? You're just being stubborn."

Jaebum crosses his arms at this reply, every time. "Do you know something I don't, Youngjae-ah?"

There's always a hesitation here that Jeanun hasn't figured out yet. "No."

"Okay. Then my answer is still no."

The conversation usually ends here with Youngjae giving up in frustration and walking off. Youngjae doesn't understand, and that's okay—Youngjae hasn't just realized that he's really been in love with someone he thought he's hated for his entire life. Jaebum doesn't expect him to get it.

 

Jaebum is finally freed from it all when exams are over and mostley everyone abandons campus to go home for the holidays. Jaebum's entire floor is empty, everyone gone to their families and their rooms locked up. It's peaceful in his dorm, and while he's a little sad he won't be joining his parents on vacation, he's glad that he'll still get time for himself while staying on campus. His parents invited him to go to Switzerland, but something about being stuck with his family in a cabin for two weeks sounded unappealing (God only knows how much he loves them, but he needs some time to himself and he's always felt most at peace in his dorm room). Some other kids stay; he really only sees them in the cafeteria at dinner time or in the library, snuggled up on couches and napping. For the most part, he's alone, and he feels better for it.

A full week passes in utter solitude. He talks to his family every now and then, usually only for a few minutes. And he talks to Yugyeom and Youngjae through text pretty frequently while they're with their own families, but that's as much human interaction as he gets. Which is why when there's a knock on his door at 11pm on a Saturday night, he's wary.

Getting off the bed and throwing a shirt on, he crosses the room without bothering to put on anything over his boxers—he figures whoever it is will tell him what they need to and they'll be on their way. So he's surprised when he opens the door and Jinyoung is in the hallway, looking off to the side so that only his profile is visible. Jaebum feels his heart sink and wonders if he immediately pales, anxiety prickling at his skin like heat. He's too surprised to say anything, but Jinyoung doesn't say anything either, so he's left looking at the side of Jinyoung's face in the low light of the hallway in silence. He watches Jinyoung's eyes as they go back and forth, watching something or just examine the hallway closely to avoid looking at Jaebum. A couple of minutes pass. Finally, Jaebum adjusts his grip on the doorknob, letting the blood come back into his fingers before he says:

"Do you want to come in?"

He says it at the exact time as Jinyoung asks, "can I come in?" so his face turns red when their voices tumble on top of each other in the air between them. "Sorry," he says, looking at Jaebum's hand on the door instead of his face. "I'd like to come in, if that's alright."

Wordlessly, Jaebum stands aside so Jinyoung can enter the room; his eyes slip shut absentmindedly for a moment when Jinyoung's arm brushes his in the small space. When he opens them again and shuts the door, he realizes Jinyoung is already looking at him. Belatedly he realizes he didn't put on real pants before he invited Jinyoung in and he tries to swallow the embarrassment.

"Are you alright?"

Jaebum is surprised not only by the question but the intensity in which Jinyoung asks, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Me? Yes, I'm alright. Why?"

"You've been avoiding me for weeks."

Shit. He didn't think Jinyoung would just show up for no reason, but he also wasn't expecting Jinyoung to bring it up so bluntly. "I know."

He hates the way that Jinyoung's eyes close when he says it, the shadows underneath them pronounced; bruised like he's been pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It makes him sad but he doesn't know why—it's not like Jinyoung ever really cared. They got each other off, and then Jinyoung went back to his boyfriend. Game over. What had he been expecting? Declarations of love? He didn't even realize he loves Jinyoung until a week ago. But the way Jinyoung looks at him from where he's sitting on the edge of Jaebum's bed with his hands knotted in his lap makes Jaebum want to lay him down and kiss him until he's crazy. He tries to push the thought away and fails.

Jinyoung finally looks away and out the window. He doesn't acknowledge the response directly, but instead changes the subject. "We need to talk about what happened. At fashion week."

Jaebum's heart falls into his stomach and turns to stone there. He almost feels like he has to sit down, but he stays leaning against the wall by the desk. He tries to keep his voice neutral when he asks, "why?"

Jinyoung sighs. He closes his eyes again, like he's thinking of how to answer the question, and Jaebum just watches him carefully. The air in the room has thickened with a tension jaebum doesn't really understand, but he thinks that if he doesn't acknowledge it right away then it'll either dissipate on its own or they just won't mention it. Either option is good. Jaebum's all for having adult conversations, but he's not sure he can stand to hear Jinyoung tell him they can never even be in the same room again because he loves Jackson. Even just the thought has an echo like heartbreak.

Without looking at him, Jinyoung says, "you know why."

"Do I? Why's that?"

He looks at Jaebum then, and Jaebum realizes he's been crying. His back straightens on the wall, caught off guard, but he's unsure of what to say so he stays quiet. But worry flows through him like water, drowning him in it. The only thought that bounces around his brain is how he wants to make the look on Jinyoung's face go away because it's breaking his heart. "I've been thinking about it every day."

This catches him entirely by surprise. His heart skips and then takes off beating against his ribs like a jackrabbit. The blood pounds in his ears so loudly that his voice sounds muffled. "What?"

"I think about it every day. About how we did that but shouldn't have done it—"

The words are like knives. Jaebum feels indignance rise in him, coloring his cheeks pink. "If this is a conversation about how we shouldn't have done it, I don't want to hear it."

Jinyoung's eyes harden. "Can I finish?"

Even now, they struggle to dominate the room. He nods, almost imperceptibly.

"I've been thinking about it every day," he says again, and now Jaebum can hear his voice shaking, "and how we shouldn't have. How you invited me to your room. And how I said no."

"What's your point?"

He looks like he's going to cry again, and Jaebum feels a pang of regret at being so short with him. Jinyoung draws in a shaky breath but keeps his eyes on Jaebum's, defiant in a way so unique to him. "I've been thinking about how I should have said yes. To coming to your room."

_What?_

His brain comes to a grinding halt. Jinyoung's words repeat over and over and over and over in his brain,  _How I should have yes How I should have said yes HowIshouldhavesaidyeshowishouldhavesaidyes_  until it translates itself into gibberish. He feels his arms drop to his sides, and he can barely feel his breath leaving him. "What?" He keeps saying this word, over and over, but it's the only answer he seems to be able to come up with.

Jinyoung just looks at him. "I should have said yes. I'm sorry I didn't."

Now his knees buckle a little, and he has to slap his hands back against the wall to keep himself from falling. Somewhere, part of him realizes what Jinyoung is trying to say, but it’s passing through a filter of all the things they’ve done or said to each other over years and years so it doesn’t make sense; he can’t grasp it in the same way he would if Jinyoung was being mean to him. He distantly understands that that’s not quite true any longer; they’ve done plenty of things for each other that their teenage selves would balk at, but he can’t seem to recall them. His mind spins endlessly, chasing the end of Jinyoung’s words like a dog with its tail.

“Say something,” Jinyoung says, and it sounds like he’s close to begging.

All Jaebum can manage is, “what do you mean? Why are you sorry?”

He sighs in response. “Will you sit down, at least?”

Cautiously, Jaebum goes to sit on his desk chair, but Jinyoung scoots toward the headboard and pats the empty space. As if in a trance, Jaebum goes to the bed and sits down, folding his legs up so that his knees are almost touching Jinyoung’s. His whole world feels like its tipping on its side.

“I have a lot of things to apologize for,” Jinyoung says, and his voice is stronger; less shaky, like he’s gaining confidence in his words. “We were awful to each other for a really long time. Unfairly, I think. We’ve known each other for basically our entire lives, and instead of spending that time appreciating each other we spent it spitting on each other and fighting and competing, and for what? It seems ridiculous now, don’t you think?”

“A little. We were awful to each other, but I don’t think it was entirely unwarranted. I hated you, and I hated you even more when I realized you were at this school and I was going to have to experience everything all over again. I thought I was never going to get away from it.”

This makes Jinyoung look sad, but he just nods like he agrees. “I know. And I was terrible to you. I still am, I think, in ways that we’ll get to later. Do you know why I hated you? Growing up, I mean?”

Jaebum feels like this might be a dangerous line of questioning, but they’re already here so he just goes along with it. “I have my own ideas, but I’d like to hear yours.”

Jinyoung nods again, face drawing up in a way that makes his expression unreadable. His eyes drop to the blanket, one hand absentmindedly tracing the circular patterns as he talks. “I thought you were better than me. That you thought you were better than me, and would take every instance to show it. I hated that you were better at sports—my father always told me he wanted me to be an athlete, but I was always just a little bit worse than the best guy on the team and that wasn’t good enough. So when you started playing soccer with us and you were the best, I hated you for it. I thought that you were gaining the approval from my father that I wanted for myself. I realize that’s not true, now, that my father loves me anyway, but I was 11, 12. Those things tortured me.

“And then we got into middle school and you started dating girls almost immediately, you got more and more handsome by the day,” he looks up and blushes, looking back down quickly. “And I could only ever think about how cute I thought the boys on the soccer team were, and how much I couldn’t understand that you were the kind of son my parents wanted when you were so cruel to me all the time, in your own ways. The girls thought I was cute if a little nerdy, but instead of wanting to kiss them, I was having dreams of the way you looked on the soccer field, covered in sweat and like you were born to be there. And I hated myself for it, but because it had a face, I made it hate you, instead. And then I found Mark, and everyone just accepted that I was gay and that I was never going to be anything else, and surprisingly everyone was okay with it, and my parents loved Mark. And I loved Mark. And Mark liked you a lot, which I never understood. I fought with Mark a lot about it.” He laughs here, a little bitterly, but doesn’t look up. “It was a constant thorn in my side that someone I loved could see a side of you that I couldn’t.”

Jaebum feels like the room is spinning. There’s so much he didn’t understand, didn’t realize: he thought they were both doomed to a life of endless cycles of hate and tolerance and more hate but their lives have been infinitely more complicated than either of them realize. “I liked Mark a lot, too,” he says, because it’s true: he and Mark had always gotten along, and Jaebum understood how Jinyoung felt. He couldn’t understand how someone as patient and great as Mark could put up with someone like Jinyoung.

Jinyoung smiles. “Good. He was always trying to get me to see the Jaebum that he saw, but I was stubborn. I wouldn’t do it. Then you started winning awards for soccer, and being the best athlete at school, and I felt like going crazy. You started dating boys every once in a while, and that made me angry—how were you going to do that to me? How were you going to be a shining example of the perfect boy and also be the way I wanted to be, open and cool and sexual? I couldn’t take it. I didn’t even have sex with Mark until after we’d been dating for a year, but here you were, hooking up with boys in backseats of cars and became legendary. And then, out of nowhere, you disappeared. That day in class, when they called you out, I looked at your face. You look like someone had died. You were just  _gone_. My parents never told me where you went, just that your family had to move for a while. Mark didn’t even know, and we fought for weeks because I thought he knew and just wouldn’t tell me. I was scared, but I didn’t know what to do, I was just a kid, you know, we were in high school, it happens all the time. What happened?”

This is what he’s been waiting for, for Jinyoung to finally ask what happened that day and why he never came back to school, why he never showed up at the country club or came to dinners at their house. Years passed and Jinyoung never even tried to reach out to him, and he formed the hurt into anger and convinced himself he hated Jinyoung for being so careless. They hated each other, sure, but they were also teenagers. If anything, Jinyoung would have asked him just for the gossip, wouldn’t he? But Jinyoung had never called, and he essentially disappeared. Jaebum feels his heart beat stutter at the way Jinyoung’s looking at him, dark eyes holding his in a way that makes him feel like he’s going to fall into them if he doesn’t look away.

Taking a deep breath, Jaebum drums his fingers on his knees. “We lost all of our money.”

_“All_ of it? How?”

“It was gradual,” he says, steeling himself against the heartache that comes with reliving this part of his life. His parents fighting, all of them crammed into a tiny two bedroom apartment, fighting to make ends meet when just before they’d been living in a six bedroom house. “The company my dad owns had been losing money rapidly when people started to cheat the books—they thought since there was so much money, no one would notice a little going missing here and there. But the problem was that everyone thought that. So, all of the sudden, there was no money anymore. None. The accounts were empty, and that included my dad’s. Turns out my dad’s business partner had paid everyone off to start funneling the funds into his own private accounts until there was nothing left and he disappeared. So they had to shut the company down. We had to move into the city while the trials were happening. There were days where we couldn’t turn the heater on, and my dad would be gone for days at a time, just downtown at the courthouse and trying to fix our lives. It took a few years but finally, just when my dad had the company on some sort of stable foundation, he found a new business partner. They respected each other immensely, and together they got the company back to where it was. After a year or so, it was making more money than before, and that’s when I started applying to JYP.”

He takes a deep breath and it hitches a little—he hadn’t meant to unleash it all like that, he’s never really told anyone that story in depth except Yugyeom and Youngjae. But then he looks up and Jinyoung’s eyes are shining with tears and there’s an expression on his face Jaebum doesn’t think he’s ever seen directed at him—concern. Before either of them can move, Jinyoung reaches across the small space between them and lays a warm hand on Jaebum’s cheek in a gesture so sincere Jaebum feels his throat tighten with tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I was too blinded by my own emotions that I didn’t even think to consider you.”

Jinyoung doesn’t move his hand, so Jaebum just closes his eyes and leans into a little. He wonders when he’ll wake up and this will be over. After a moment, he says, “I always thought you were better than me, at everything. I hated you so much for it.”

The warmth on his face disappears, and he opens his eyes to see Jinyoung putting his hand back in his lap. He looks attentive, though, and not disappointed or hurt, so he continues. “You’ve always been so smart. Acing all your tests and being the top student in the school while also going to soccer practice every single day and staying until it was over. You didn’t party but had a ton of friends, anyway, and were still getting top marks at everything. I always felt that beating you in a footrace would never hold up to not being as smart as you are. And you were always so distant in a way that it felt like you were looking down on me. So when I left, I thought I was finally away from it all, but then I came here and went to soccer tryouts and you were there, decked out in expensive clothes in the heat like you owned the place. And then you looked at me, recognized me, but looked right through me. I just didn’t get it. The weeks we spent talking trash to each other in the hallways felt like high school all over again, you know, I felt like it wasn’t ever going to end. I talked to Yugyeom about leaving. Then you tried to apologize to me, and I was so confused and suspicious of it that the only way I knew to react was to be a dick about it. But it made me realize that maybe you were right, and that we shouldn’t fight anymore, but I had hurt your feelings already and it was too late.”

The next words from Jinyoung startle him. “I’ve always been so drawn to you, Jaebum. For the longest time I thought it was because our parents were friends and it was because we were always competitive. But now, after everything, I think it might be something else.”

HIs entire world narrows down to the way Jinyoung is sitting less than a foot away from him on his bed, in his dorm, at school when there’s no else around. His heartbeat nervously pounds in his ears. “What’s that?”

Without answering, Jinyoung leans across the space between them and catches his mouth in a kiss.

It’s like the lights have been turned on. He feels like his chest is going to explode, his heart raging against his ribs like jackhammer. Beating, beating, beating. Fire sears his veins as Jinyoung sighs against his mouth like he’s been waiting so long for this, like all he’s ever wanted was to kiss Jaebum. He brings his hand up to cradle the back of Jinyoung’s head, their kiss deepening; all slow, burning heat as they explore each other’s mouths with their tongues. It’s nothing like their other kiss, explosive and violent like a car accident. Tenderness unfurls in Jaebum’s chest like a flower, so strongly that he tightens his other hand on Jinyoung’s shirt like he’s afraid to let go; like if he does the moment will end and Jinyoung will tell him they can’t ever do this again. But Jinyoung just leans closer, his own hands coming up to catch Jaebum’s face between them, so gently that he feels like crying. Jinyoung sighs again, softly, so softly it makes him ache, and pulls away.

They stare at each other for a moment, both of them breathing unevenly and flushed red. Jinyoung puts a hand on Jaebum’s knee, fingers warm and soft, and squeezes. “We still have to talk about fashion week.”

Jaebum sighs, already beginning to retract, feeling scorned. “Alright.”

“I broke up with Jackson.”

He drops this information with absolutely no preamble. Jaebum feels his eyes widen, shocked. Again, the only thing he can think to say is, “What?”

“I broke up with Jackson,” he says again, and Jaebum notices how his eyes tighten like he’s in pain, and it makes his chest hurt. He realizes that something huge is going on, unravelling in front of him like the thread from an old sweater. “Because it wasn’t fait. It wasn’t fair of me to hook up with you, then blow you off when you tried to invite me in, and go back to Jackson but always be thinking of you while we…you know,” he says shyly, stumbling a little before continuing, “and it wasn’t fair of me to hang on to Jackson’s feelings when I didn’t feel the same way about him. Not like the way I feel about you.”

Shock continues to assault him from almost all fronts. Jaebum’s frozen, mouth open like he was going to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. Jinyoung just laughs quietly.

“Close your mouth, Jaebum-ah. You look like a fish.”

Blushing, Jaebum hits Jinyoung lightly on the arm in embarrassment, which just makes Jinyoung just laugh more.

“You can’t be surprised, can you?” Jinyoung says, brushing his fingertips along Jaebum’s jaw in a way that makes him shiver unconsciously.

“About what?” he replies, aware his voice is a little uneven now.

“That I would feel this way about you, even after all this time. I never stood a chance, Im Jaebum. Not one.”

His heart expands in his chest with happiness so profound he thinks he’s going to burst, and he wonders if Jinyoung can see it in his face, his smile so soft and bright and just for him. He grabs a fistful of Jinyoung’s t-shirt and pulls him closer when he says,

“I know, Jinyoungie. Neither did I.”


	5. EPILOGUE + AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :o)

They kiss for hours until it turns into something heavier, a desperate sort of desire that neither of them wanted to hide from anymore. Their mouths stay locked together even as they strip each other of their clothes, only parting to get shirts over their heads and tossed impatiently to the floor. Jinyoung explores Jaebum's body with his hands in a way that drives Jaebum to the brink of insanity, Jaebum begging into Jinyoung's skin as he tries to keep himself together. It's slow, Jinyoung writhing and panting under Jaebum with a desperation so intense that Jaebum barely lasts long enough to get Jinyoung off. After waiting so long, putting each other through so much, their collective releases feel like being baptised, and Jaebum pants Jinyoung's name over and over, like a litany that Jinyoung answers with his own name.  When it's over, Jinyoung starts to cry--the road ahead of them is long, they both realize, with a lot of forgiving and healing to go through before their relationship is where they think it can be. But Jaebum holds him while he works through it, Jinyoung's arms locked around his neck, and Jaebum thinks that this is always how it was supposed to be: the two of them, figuring it out.  
  
It takes a few years, but Jackson forgives the two of them. They've long since graduated college together, all six of them: Mark comes down for their graduation, cheering the loudest for them as they walk to get their diplomas. Jaebum kisses Jinyoung on the field, knocking his graduation cap to the ground with the force of it, the happiness practically radiating out of the two of them. They move in together, exploring so many aspects of the new-found relationship that they both realized they'd been missing out on for years. But every night they go to bed together, Jinyoung just presses soft kisses into his jawline and tells him, "better late than never."  
  
He thinks he can live with that.

 

__________________________________

 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE II**

so the epilogue is super short bc i didn't want to drag it out any longer than it needed to be, bc i really wanted to end this short and sweet and without making it overcomplicated since this entire this is a complicated mess. i haven't written anything in a long time, but miguel and i were joking around forever ago about a richboy alternate universe where jjp is just mean as hell to each other and secretly are like [eye emoji] at each other, so this was the baby of that. there's a sequel planned already, so blame miguel. anywaY SORRY you had to go through this but thank u for being here and if you read this whole thing you're a dang champ and i love u!!! amazing god bless   
<3 


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